New Kid Stories 01: Vaccinations Do Not Cause Zombies!
by JustCallMeButtLord
Summary: The New Kid and Mysterion are forced to defend South Park from a zombie outbreak caused by the CDC. [First installment of the New Kid Stories series. Rated M for extreme coarse language, horrific themes, and gore. Minor suggestions at shipping between Stan and Wendy, as well as Kenny and CisFemale! New Kid from the South Park video games Stick of Truth and The Fractured But Whole]
1. Mysterion and Buttlord

_Holy hello, it's a new fic!_

Hello, dear readers, and welcome to my very first South Park story. I've been writing fic for a hot second or two, but I like to make a new account when I get into a new fandom, mostly not to spam my watchers with stuff they don't really care about. Protecting the _brand_ and all that. I'm going to preface this story with letting you all know that **I actually haven't watched that much South Park in terms of the TV show.** I got into South Park via the games Stick of Truth and Fractured But Whole, got the idea to write this fic, and have since spent entirely too much time on the wiki trying to track down enough detail on everyone to keep them in character. I _have_ started watching the series now, and I am really enjoying it, but I ask that you hold the flames if you notice I've gotten a detail of someone's background or character wrong. Just lemme know via a review or message, and I will endeavor to fix it when time allows. That said, _please be polite when informing me of any errors._

 _Hokay? Hokay!_

 _ON  
WITH  
THE  
FIC!_

OWTF!

* * *

 **:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Mysterion and Buttlord::**

" _I'm in position, Buttlord."_

She'd been waiting on the signal for over an hour, and finally it was here. Anticipation had given way to boredom within ten minutes of waiting, and she was _dying_ to be done with this little mess.

The gruff voice in her ear was her go-ahead to unlock the front door of her home and step outside into the chilly Colorado night. Sometimes, stuff like this still felt like the silly little game they'd all played back when she'd moved to this quiet little mountain town- everyone in costumes, playing the part of some hardcore vigilante. Code names, bad guys, secret communications and after-dark operations? All childish, nostalgic, and familiar. The main difference _these_ days was that there were only three people playing, and two of them _really did_ have powers. Maybe not the obvious ones like flying or shooting laser beams out of their eyes, like the heroes in the movies had. Maybe not even powers that could be considered wholly _positive,_ seeming more like curses at times... but still, they were _real,_ and that removed what they were doing from kiddie-play-time. When she stepped off of the concrete stoop and onto the sidewalk that ran to the houses of all the people she knew, she was well aware that there was no make-believe involved in this. No imagination, no status effects, and none of the _bullshit_ some of her more... immature friends would bring to the table if they were involved.

No, no, this was all quite serious.

That said, it didn't change the fact that she loved wearing a big black hooded coat at night. It was a bulky thing with furry lining she pulled over a bright blue hoodie, and she still wore the purple gloves she'd favored back then. What could she say? It was her style. That and the fluffy hood was handy for hiding the Bluetooth earpiece her friends were talking to her through.

" _They see you, but they're not certain you're the target yet. Sounds like the hood is in the way. Look out towards the street, but not directly at the vehicle."_ A female voice; their non-powered communications expert. Didn't matter- the things that girl did with phones and social media _should_ have been considered a super power.

She stuffed her hands into her pockets, shrugging up her shoulders as her head twisted around. Foggy breath was expelled out as she eyed the street. A white van that claimed to be from an extermination service was parked in the street, just across from her home. Despite being told _not_ to look directly at the vehicle, she still did. She could see someone in the driver's seat, maybe even the glint of binoculars? _Low tech, much?_ Her expression didn't change, she simply stared silently at the van and willed a response. _Come out, come investigate. Is your cover blown? Am I just a paranoid kid staring at an unfamiliar car? Take your pick, just come and get me, bitches._

" _What the- Dee, Dee stop looking right at them, they might shoot!"_

" _Oh my_ ** _god_** _, Buttlord, do you have_ _to do this_ ** _every_** _time?"_

Both parts of the team were complaining, but the stare persisted. Where were the people in the back of the van watching from? Oh, there it was, a little camera on the hood, snuggled up against the base of the antenna. Her face didn't shift, but her pupils did; zeroing in on that point and letting the seconds pass by as she internally _grinned._

 _C'mon, bastards- come out and play._

" _Okay, okay, they've made positive ID. They're gonna come after you as soon as you look away, try to sneak up and take you by surprise. Sounds like everyone but the driver is going."_

" _Call Girl, think you can handle the driver?"_

" _Already on it, Mysterion. The van has integrated GPS, I can use that to fry all the electronics in there."_

 _That'll be a nasty shock._ She turned her head back the way she'd been going; towards the bus stop. All things considered, it was a pretty quiet night in South Park. Most of the lights were out, and she only heard occasional movement; muffled by the snow cover on the ground. Hobo? Raccoon? Either was possible, and neither were worth investigation.

" _They're on the move, Dee. Sounds like they want to grab you first before they go after your parents."_

A devious little smirk appeared. Ah, yes, her _parents-_ whom she'd warned, and who were fully ready to defend themselves against anyone who tried to break in. Wasn't it _nice_ when everyone was honest with each other? At least, within their little family unit.

" _What about the asshole in the van? Is he moving?"_ Mysterion barked over the communications channel.

A pause intervened before Call Girl replied. " _He's on standby to call for back-up."_

Mysterion chuckled darkly. _"Good fucking luck on that one."_

" _I know, right?"_ Call Girl sounded rather _pleased_ with herself. No doubt the man's phone would _explode_ if and when he did try to call for help.

Comm chatter ceased at that point; things would get real once she- _Dee_ or _Buttlord_ both being acceptable titles, but neither being a name she'd given herself- reached the bus stop. It wasn't far away; she could see the bench, the sign, the covering kiosk; and the thick bush cover all around it. A few more steps, a few more paces, just a little closer...

"Hey! You! _HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM!"_

" _Shit."_

Call Girl's utterance was an echo of her own thoughts. She hadn't quite made it to the bus stop's bench, instead halted on the other side of the road she could follow up to main street and the rest of town. Apparently these assholes weren't quite as incompetent as the _usual_ idiots who got sent after her. Her feet planted on the sidewalk, and her hands rose up to either side of her head with her fingers spread wide.

" _Wait for my signal, then duck and run."_ Mysterion's direction came as stage whisper. He was hiding in the bush cover, just behind the bus stop. It sounded like he had a new plan, adapted on the fly.

"Got you _good,_ you little asshole." She could hear all of them now; footfalls against the sidewalk no longer trying to be stealthy. One, two, three men, approaching to cut her off at both sides and the rear. The clatter of cuffs unfurling came from the guy directly behind her. "Nice and easy, no stupid moves... no one has to get hurt tonight."

 _Little closer, fuckwad._

" _NOW!"_

The barked order was both in her ear and from the bushes- but not the ones from behind the bus stop. It was directly to her right- the bushes on _this_ side of the street. There was no time to analyze it, simply diving forward and rolling in the snow before getting back to her feet and dashing for the Plexiglas of the kiosk. She heard a hard hit behind her, like a linebacker hitting a training block, along with a storm of curses and confusion. _"What the hell? Who the fuck is this kid?"_ Were identifiable from the verbal mess.

And then there was a gunshot.

She'd made the kiosk, grabbed one of the metal pipes that made up its frame, and swung around it to turn herself back and see what had happened. One guy was down, his head having hit the street, _hard._ Another had been knocked that way, bent in the middle of the road and recovering his balance. The third, however, was the one who had managed to draw a weapon.

In the middle was a gray figure that, again, reminded her of when they'd all been kids playing hero. Mysterion's costume had changed a little bit with age, as had the boy wearing it. It was still gray on gray, with a splattered green 'M' on his chest, but the underpants had been exchanged for a ripped up pair of jean shorts, and the combat boots had gotten heavier. The dark hood and cape were nearly the same as well, though the old one from when they were little had been replaced a number of times in the years since. As for the boy? Key differences had occurred, such as height and muscle mass. _Growing_ was a key part of time going by, after all.

In this moment, _red_ had also been introduced to the color scheme. Even at this distance, she could see him as a shocked figure on his knees, tensed up to leap at the third and final man and put the hard part of this operation to bed. She could see his eyes from beneath the shadow of the cowl, looking somewhat up, and _crossed_ in an unnatural way. The hood had jerked back just a few inches by ejecting brain matter and bone, and the middle of his brow was visible- as was the hole punched by a recently fired bullet.

Blood was just running down his nose and chin. His body remained ridged for a moment, and then began to slump.

 _How about **no?**_

Breaking wind on command was, for most, a party trick. For her, it was a little more _involved_ in that- bad gas was a side-effect of some bullshit medicine her parents secretly fed her to try and keep her hidden, but it took a mixture of in-born talent and trained _skill_ to rip time and space while also ripping ass. The medicine wasn't a secret anymore; instead something she took every day like it was a multivitamin. And the gas?

It tended to come in handy. Working it up inside her body was all but second nature, and focusing on the exact moment in time she wanted to step back to was something so practiced it was like pulling on her favorite shirt in the morning. She could hold it, grasp it, and- _let it go!_

"What the _fuck?!"_

The startled cry of a man who had no longer fired a gun. It was back in his holster, the bullet back in the chamber, and- most importantly- _Mysterion's skull was back in one piece._

And he was _pissed._

" _No mercy!"_

His voice was no less vicious than his brow as he lept up and butted heads with the last man standing. She didn't stop and watch- there was the guy staggering in the street who would find his feet sooner rather than later. Her gaze trained on him, rushing up in a few powerful strides and arriving next to the man to drive her elbow into the back of his skull with all the momentum and speed she could muster. Like a beaten dog, he _yelped,_ and she followed it up with a knee to his chest that knocked out both the wind in his lungs and the balance of his body. He crashed back onto his rear, fingers scrambling for the holster inside his jacket.

Her foot met the side of his head in a solid kick, knocking him the rest of the way down, his nose making an ugly sound when it met the pavement. He didn't get back up.

She looked back. Mysterion was standing between the other two downed men, looking no worse for wear. Faintly, she shot him a victorious smile.

Now if only the street didn't smell like rotten eggs and week-old kitty litter.

"Call Girl, how's our friend in the van?" Mysterion asked his comm, their third member always somewhere removed from the action.

" _Unconscious. He tried to phone for back-up... part of his face looks like burnt bacon. Ick."_

"Got it. Let's get these idiots into place, and call it a night." He nodded to himself while looking over to his partner in this task. "You got that one?"

Dee nodded quickly, bending down and lifting up the man she'd just beaten to the ground over her shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes. By the time she'd come to rejoin Mysterion on the sidewalk, he had the other two by the collars of their cliched Men in Black suits and had begun dragging them back to their van.

" _I'll meet you guys at the van. Call Girl, out."_

Dee snaked a hand into her hood, turning her earpiece off and looking to Mysterion to see him pausing to do the same. Communications prudence was something they'd learned to observe a while ago- no need to leave an open signal in case someone else decided to join the party.

"That was a good save. Can't say it _felt_ pleasant, but... thanks." Mysterion's gratitude was a grumbling, bitter thing. He'd told her before, about his inability to die, and how no one ever remembered when he _did_ perish in the course of any given day. She herself seemed to be similar to the rest, in the way that she could not remember him specifically dying during any of the previous years they'd spent as friends... but she _knew_ she'd seen him take mortal blows. It was all covered in a very uncertain fog of memory long forgotten, that _yes_ he'd gotten shot, or impaled, or burned- but never once could she remember him expiring. He was simply... _there_ the next day, perfectly alright... if a little sad.

If it were an endless cycle of deaths that only he remembered and suffered through, she preferred to treat him as mortal. This wasn't the first bullet to the head that she'd farted out of his skull.

She offered a silent smile. _Doing what I can with what I've got._

He waited a moment, as if he expected her to say something- she didn't. Just another awkward moment with a long stare before he shook his head. "It's been three fucking years, and I still think one of these days you're finally going to say _something._ What the _fuck,_ man?"

 _C'mon, you know better than to ask. You **know** I'm just gonna blink at you a few times. Here, I'll even **shrug,** just this once. _

"Alright, alright, I got it. Let's just finish the job and go home."


	2. Cartman Has A Giant Tantrum

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Cartman Has a Giant Tantrum::**

" _... and now, the news program that starts your day off right: GOOD MORNING SOUTH PARK!"_

Her parents were already gone for the morning, but Dee had turned on the TV anyway while getting ready for school. Cranking it up high enough, she could hear it throughout the house- though more than once she'd considered getting one of those fancy wireless speaker systems that she could just set up in her room, the bathroom, and the kitchen. Would Stan and Wendy help her with that if she asked? No doubt if she drew up plans and showed them, they'd get the picture. Even faster if she included an envelope of cash to show she'd pay for their trouble. These were the thoughts that passed through her head as she showered, brushed out her (dyed) candy-red hair, and fought the frizz with just enough product to keep the unruly curls out of her pale-ass face.

" _Good morning, South Park. It appears the mysterious Farting Vigilante, who first began their activities in our small mountain town three years ago, has once again struck a blow against big government here in South Park. Here with more is a midget in a bikini."_

She scoffed. _How_ were they still calling her that? Then again, the news was still convinced she was a _boy._ The hair-fiddling stopped, and she left the steamy comfort of the bathroom for the cold of the hallway, ducking into her room and leaving the door open while getting dressed.

" _Thank you Tom; I'm here on main street just outside the Photo Dojo, where four government agents were found bloodied and tied up in the back of this van behind me. As you can see, an extermination company's logo has been poorly painted over the van's clearly stated purpose of surveillance, and several incriminating documents have been found that would suggest that these men meant to shut down the majority of businesses in South Park due to a lack of hiring diversity. Pictures of these documents first surfaced on the Farting Vigilante's Facebook page, run by an anonymous fan of their work, as well as Instagram. Police have reviewed the documents found in the van, and claimed that the intent was both threatening and entirely unfounded since 'There can be no hiring diversity in a color-blind society.'"_

 _Thank you Wendy for the fire-starting controversy._ She grinned faintly as undergarments were pulled on, her favorite electric blue sweater, and then a set of baggy black boy's pants; loose things that never once suggested she was a budding _young woman_ to the people around her. Hair was tucked up into a black hat, the mirror in her room was given an approving nod, and it was time to head down the stairs and seize the day.

Specifically, her first day of middle school.

" _Clearly this invasion of the rights of our businesses cannot go unanswered, and I'm to understand those pictures got a lot of attention?"_

" _That's right, Tom. As of now, the Facebook post has been shared over half a million times, and the likes, reactions, and comments are coming in too quickly to be counted- everyone agrees that shady government agents have no right to go shutting down the small businesses of South Park, and their paper-thin excuse for trying has been spread across the internet in record time."_

" _Sounds like it's time to score another point for free speech- and have the agents been taken into police custody?"_

" _Two of them have, though the police reports neither have been co-operative. The other two are receiving medical care, and will be questioned after they've recovered from what can only be described as a vicious beat-down."_

" _Thanks, midget. We've received a comment from the mayor's office that she intends to fight the continued invasive actions of the federal government here in South Park, and that their continuous intrusions into our town will not be tolerated. This event, after all, is only one in a pattern of government agents turning up horribly beaten with incriminating implications in South Park, the last one having occurred three months ago-"_

The TV was turned off as she made her way out the door, a piece of buttered toast in her mouth as she pulled a set of purple gloves onto her hands. The news report had told her everything she needed to know- that last night's operation had been a full success. Once again, government agents sent for her and her family had been repelled and accused of doing something that pissed off the public to the point that the red necks were probably going to start patrolling the town border again and holding up anyone in a suit... which meant a couple more months of _peace_ for her. Peace begotten by her _actual_ super-power; the one she was born with, the one her parents so desperately wanted to hide- the simple fact that _anything_ she posted online caught fire pretty much instantly. The anonymous accounts had been a test to see if the power still worked when people didn't know it was her- and _it did._

No doubt the government wanted her for some kind of propaganda machine; make the country believe or buy-in to _anything,_ and continue making the humans on this rock even dumber than they already were. They wanted to make her life the dumbest fucking chore on the planet? They wanted to keep harassing her family? _Fine,_ but they weren't going to move anymore. No more boxes, no more trucks, no more starting over with new people in a new place. _She_ had picked her place to make a stand, and she'd use the powers they wanted so _fucking_ badly to make them _fuck the fuck right off_ at every turn.

Because that's how Buttlord gets shit done.

 _And that's why you don't say this shit aloud. Fuck, that was in my head and it sounded fucking stupid._

* * *

The first big change about being in Middle School was the fact that their bus arrived earlier, due to the school being further away from the main part of town. Dee hadn't really expected anyone to be at the stop before her, but those expectations found themselves broken when she spotted a certain _bloated_ figure on the horizon in the early morning light that managed to filter through growing cloud cover.

 _Really? Of all people, he's the one who manages to get up early? Hazzah. Ha-fucking-zzah._

"Douchebag!" Cartman greeted her with a surprising amount of gusto for the hour. Did the fat asshole actually seem excited? About _school?_

She arrived at the bus stop with her trademark blank stare, blinking at him a few times.

"Oh my fucking god, Douchebag, do you understand what today is? _Do you? Do you even fucking know?"_

 _The first day of middle school? New building, same people?_

"It's our first day as fucking _middle schoolers,_ Douchebag- we're moving up the fucking food-chain!" His tone changed, less boisterous, but extremely malicious. "I feel like a wild shark in the big tank at an aquarium- I can't wait for some stupid forth-grader to cross my path."

 _Right, because you feared older kids when you were in forth grade, it's totally right to turn around and do the same shit to the generation below you. God you are the biggest asshole to ever live, and from me? That's fuckin' saying something. Goddamn, why didn't natural selection weed you out?_

"I've got big plans, Douchebag. _Big plans."_ He paused, his fingers playing over one another as if he were the mastermind in some cheaply made crime drama. Then, his head snapped around and he shouted; _"_ You better be fuckin' ready!"

 _Will it fucking matter?_

Cartman's continued determination to call her Douchebag was one of the reasons Wendy took to calling her _Dee_ instead. Also, back when they were playing Stick of Truth as kids, her role had been that of the Dragonborn. If one wanted to get nice and technical, _Cartman did know her actual name._ She'd tried to tell him back when they _started_ playing Stick of Truth three years ago- but it seemed he'd either forgotten, or decided his title for her was better.

Maybe he was worried that if he thought about her name too hard, he'd realize she was a chick. Finally. After three fucking years of hanging out with her.

 _Silence_ was the sound of South Park at this hour, once Cartman had hit the end of his train of thought. No doubt he'd find something else to say if not given some kind of diversion. Glancing left and right, Dee ascertained that they were utterly alone for the moment, a few flakes of snow falling from mottled gray skies above them and obscuring visibility in the neighborhood... as well as sounds. It would be downright peaceful, if she couldn't hear Cartman _breathing_ next to her.

She smirked, suddenly. They were alone.

"Sure you're not just putting on a show for yourself? Maybe you should chicken out back to elementary school."

She swore, she heard his heart stop for a second. He certainly stopped his loud-ass breathing before proclaiming _"WHAT THE FUCK?!"_ At the top of his lungs, pronounced in a way that sounded more like it should have been spelled 'WAT T' FOOCK'. "Since when do you _fucking_ talk, you crazy fuckin- wait- WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY TO ME YOU PRETEND GINGER ASSHOLE?!"

Dee looked to him, eyebrows raising up at he accused her of speaking at all. Silence had returned.

"Oooooh, _no! You do not get to fucking do this to me again! It's not funny you cunt sniffing Douchebag!_ You keep doing this, Imma gonna fuckin' record you with a wire and _prove_ it- you fucking hear me?!"

 _Prove it... how? A wire would record the voice, but it could be anyone's voice. That won't be proof enough for Kyle, and you know it._ She didn't flinch under his barrage of profanity as he threw a temper tantrum in the falling snow. Inwardly, she was grinning.

"Nope, nope, I don't care what you do Douchebag, there is _no way_ you're ruining my first day at school with your bullshit! _I_ have a fucking _plan,_ and just for _that- you're not fucking invited to help!"_

 _Oh, darn, I get left out of a toxic pattern of hazing. That'll learn me- **not.**_ She finally graced him with a shrug, turning her gaze back forward to wait for the bus, and _ignore him._

"... d-don't you wanna know what my super awesome plan for kicking some forthie ass, is?" Cartman suddenly sounded incredibly _hurt._ Maybe a touch frustrated, but he was hiding it well. Ah, of course, the conversation _couldn't_ end there, the _giant narcissist_ at the bus stop needed to feel like the center of attention on his _special day-_ no doubt his mother had even said it that way, too, as he'd been heading out the door. "I mean, you should at least know what you're missing out on, right? _Duh,_ of course you wanna know- see the plan is to go up onto the roof of the elementary school and- and- _would you fucking LOOK at me while I'm talking to you? IT'S FUCKING RUDE NOT TO LOOK AT SOMEONE WHO'S TALKING TO YOU, Douchebag!"_

"What the hell, Cartman, isn't it too early for this?"

From the deepening cover of falling snow, Kyle arrived, flakes clinging to his ever-present green cap.

"FUCK YOU KYEL!" Cartman snapped, mispronouncing Kyle's name. "FUCKING Douchebag here FUCKING talked to me again and he sounds like a _FUCKING CHICK_ and now he's _FUCKING IGNORING ME!"_

"Dee hasn't talked to anyone since we tossed that stupid stick in Stark's Pond a couple of years ago." Kyle dismissed, rolling his eyes. "Stop fuckin' lying, you fucking fatass."

 _Three out of five, and the morning is already lively as hell. This bodes well._

" _I'M NOT FUCKING LYING!"_ Cartman screamed into the snowy gray morning. It seemed as if the cloud cover were getting heavier by the minute.

"Fine, what did he say?"

"He said-" Cartman had to swallow to regain himself a little as Kyle settled into his usual spot next to him. "He fucking said I was fucking _chicken_ and that I should go back to elementary school!"

 _Not quite, but not your worst case of mis-paraphrasing. Gold star for effort._

" _Well,_ since Dee doesn't _talk_ to anyone, I'll just assume that's a subconscious confession." Kyle remarked.

" _WHAT THE FUCK, KYEL?! THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT-_ you all are out to _ruin_ my first day at middle _schewl_ , aren't you?! You're all fucking in this shit _together_ like a gay-ass _orgy_ you _fucking homos!"_

 _Guy who sucked Butters' dick says 'what'?_ She'd turned her gaze on Cartman again, though the expression on her face had turned utterly neutral. No quirk of the eyebrows, no shrug of the shoulders, just _looking_ at him.

"... _what?"_ Cartman responded to the blank stare with obstinate confusion. "You won't pay attention when I try to tell you my crazy-awesome master plan, but you pay attention when I talk about gay orgies? You're fucking _sick,_ Douchebag."

 _Sick of your shit, maybe._

"What master plan?" Kyle quested.

"Oh, _nothing,_ just my _super-sweet_ master plan to maximize how awesome our first day as middle schoolers is gonna be. It's gonna be _so awesome,_ Kyle, but I'll have to tell you later because _SOMEONE_ decided to fucking ignore me, _so now I don't feel like telling."_

"Seriously, dude? You're pulling that shit already?"

"What shit?"

"The shit where you act all butt-hurt until someone begs you to tell us, forcing _someone_ to stroke your gigantic ego when all you're planning to do is probably like, I donno, lob water balloons off the roof of the elementary school 'cause you figured out we get out a full twenty minutes earlier than them."

" _HA!"_ Cartman barked out a forced laugh. " _HA-HA-HA,_ like I'd be _THAT_ predictable, Kyle- I mean, c'mon, _w-water balloons?_ I can do better than _that."_

"What's going on?"

"Stan!" Kyle was the first to smile as yet another joined their usual bus-stop group and joined the line- now the only space was left between Dee and Cartman, awaiting Kenny's arrival... _mainly because she liked having a buffer between herself and the fatass._ "Cartman's gonna go water balloon the elementary schoolers after we get out today."

" _I AM NOT! I'VE GOT SOMETHING BETTER THAN THAT!"_

"Oh Jesus Christ..." Stan muttered, head bending to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, and Dee apparently told him to chicken out back to elementary school."

"For the love of- _Dee doesn't talk, Cartman,_ you gotta stop lying about that."

" _I'M NOT LYING! DOUCHEBAG'S A FUCKIN' GAY-ASS TROLL AND I SWEAR YOU'RE ALL FUCKING IN ON THIS SHIT!"_

 _Well, he's half-right. I am a fucking troll._ Eyes had turned to look at Dee, but all she did was stare back and blink. Passing over her, attention focused back on Cartman.

"Whatever, dude, I just want to have a good first day." Stan dismissed all this nonsense with a shake of his head, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I can't hang out after school, so you guys will have to do whatever without me."

" _But I need everyone to help!"_ Cartman burst out. "I can't fill two-hundred balloons by myself!"

"You _are_ gonna water balloon the elementary kids!" Kyle accused.

"Not _water,_ asshole- _piss!"_

" _What?!"_ Stan's head jerked up from it's depressed hang. "That's _sick,_ dude."

"I know, right!" Cartman was grinning.

"No, no, I mean that's _sickening-_ like that's _fucking gross-_ why would you even _do_ that?" Stan demanded.

"Cause... cause middle schoolers did that to us?"

"That doesn't make it okay to turn around and bully little kids just because we got bullied by older kids!" Stan let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, no, no, I'm _not_ getting wrapped up in this today. I already told you, I'm busy after school, so you're gonna have to find someone else to help... _make ammo_ for your stupid gross bombardment."

"He's got a point, Cartman- piss balloons on the first day of school is kinda crossing a line." Kyle added.

" _What the fuck is wrong with you pussies?"_ Disbelief colored Cartman's retort as he flung his hands out wide. "I don't even fucking need you to throw the balloons, I just need enough guys to make enough fresh piss that it'll still be warm when I throw them- y'know, so they know it's real piss. It's gonna be _awesome,_ they'll call it _the day of the yellow snow."_

"Cartman, _listen to me-"_ Stan glared as he spoke, the material of his coat showing strain as it looked like he was driving his fists down into his pockets. "I am _not_ participating in your stupid _piss prank._ I have shit to do _at home._ Now do everyone at this bus stop a favor and _shut your fat face!"_

 _Oh fuck._ Dee glanced around, hoping Kenny would soon arrive. If Stan was saying no, Kyle probably was going to as well; which would leave _her,_ and she sure as fuck wasn't pissing into any balloons... in part because _no thanks,_ and also because she lacked the appropriate _equipment_ to do so. She needed someone between her and Cartman before he could just _assume_ she was going to help. Sadly, the snow had thickened and visibility was crap. Kenny _could_ have been one of those shadows in the white flakes, or he could still be several minutes from arriving.

 _If he starts to ask, just fart yourself back to waking up this morning and take a do-over. Make a sandwich instead of walking out early with toast. There, simple solution._

"Kyle?" Cartman predictably asked. "You're in on this sweet action, right?"

" _No,_ Cartman. I could get behind water balloons, but I'm not gonna piss on the younger kids just to make you happy."

" _YOU GUYS ARE THE FUCKING WORST!"_

" _Mmmph mmm mph mmm?"_

 _Oh thank bloody Christ in a furry costume._

Kenny arrived from the snow- having replaced the orange parka of yester-year with a pretty much identical one that marked the fact that he was the first of the group to hit a real growth spurt. As always it was drawn tight with an additional scarf around his face, keeping his nose and mouth both _warm_ and _muffled._

"Kenny, you wanna help me toss piss balloons on fourth graders, right?"

" _Mmmph? Mm mph!"_

" _WHAT?!_ Why the fuck not?"

" _Mm mmph mmphm mmhm mph mphmmph mphmmm mph!"_

"Oh, _you don't wanna ruin your sister's first day of the new school year-_ GOD- _DAMNIT_ you are are such fuckin' _pussies!"_

Dee glanced over to meet Kenny's eyes for a moment, cracking a smirk. _Just in time, Mr. Hero._

The bus arrived shortly thereafter.

* * *

 _:The Author's Corner:_

So there appeared to be some disagreement on the Wiki on whether Middle School started in sixth grade or seventh grade in South Park, so I've decided to just _not say what grade level_ they are. Least, not until I've watched more of the show and can have an informed opinion of my own. XD


	3. The Bus Ride is for Plotting

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies!- The Bus Ride is for Plotting::**

The bus was abuzz with the chatter of students on the verge of something new. Middle school, after all, was a big change from elementary school. Class schedules had come in the mail a week ago, detailing who had what subjects at what periods _[and the consequential giggling of teen and pre-teen boys who couldn't say 'period' without making a menstruation joke]._ Orientation had been two days before, where students met their home room teachers, got their locker numbers and combinations, and were reminded not to keep illicit substances in their lockers- _not that any of them do drugs, of course._ The bus was a center of _exchange-_ class schedules moving back and forth, friends finding out which friends they did or didn't have classes with, and students with older siblings already bitching about which shitty teacher they had because their big brother or sister told them so.

"Hey, Dee, where's your class schedule?"

The joy of the particular bus stop that she and the boys got on at was that it was one of the first on the route; they didn't have to fight any older kids for choice seats, and Dee easily stole the little half-seat at the very back of the bus, next to the emergency door. Cartman had opted to sit somewhere in the middle bus, vengefully ignoring the rest of the group after no one took him up on his piss prank, while Kyle and Stan had the full seat across from her on the other side of the aisle, and Kenny had the seat just in front of theirs. Usually Cartman took the outside of that seat, but... well, he was too busy being a self-centered jerk. By the time Kyle had asked Dee about her paper, the bus was mostly full and _noisy._

Of course, Dee _did have_ her class schedule, but she wasn't eager to show it off. After all, everyone's papers had their _full legal names_ on them. All the same, she produced the folded up piece of paper from within the kangaroo pocket of her electric blue hoodie and waved it to show that _yes, she did have it._

"Can I see it? Me and Stan already found out we have math together, and it looks like _everyone_ has gym at the same time, but with a few different teachers. I can see if we're all in the same group!"

A perfectly reasonable request, and it would be cool to know that. Dee held up a finger, and then reached around to rifle through her pack, producing a black sharpie. Stan was watching too, now, as was Kenny, as she unfolded the paper and used the sharpie to scribble her name out until the paper began to deteriorate due to the moisture in the marker. With a quick glance to ensure there were no _other_ hints to her physical sex, she handed the page over for Kyle to oogle.

"Really, man? Why the hell did you cross out your name? Is is _really_ dumb or something?" Stan questioned while handing his own in for a cross reference, peering over Kyle's shoulder. Kenny's was quickly produced as well. "Considering some of the people we know, it can't be _that_ bad. I mean, heck, Butters real name is _Leopold."_

" _Mmph mm mphmm mphm mmmhm mph, mphmm mph mmphm."_

"I _know_ that's his choice!" Stan responded sharply. "I'm just saying, we're gonna find out sooner or later- my sister said they do roll calls on the first day and ask kids if they have preferred nicknames or anything they like to be called by. She said she already told them all that my preferred name is _Turdlord,_ but I'm pretty sure she was just saying mean stuff at that point."

 _Parents already took care of that one, dude. Met with all my teachers and asked them to remove my name from the public class lists to make it harder for the federal government to find me- I'm a fucking ghost._

"Dee never responds when he's called on by teachers, though." Kyle noted as he scanned back and forth between the three pages he'd been given and his own. "And he never gets in trouble for it, which is kinda weird when I think about it..."

"So we all just gotta listen for the one name no kid responds to!" Stan insisted.

"... Oh hey, we all have the same teacher for gym! Cool!"

" _Mmmph!"_

 _Let's just hope Cartman_ _ **doesn't.**_

"Alright, let's see..." Kyle continued. "Alright, so it looks like Kenny and Stan have first-hour English together, Dee's on his own in Science, I'm in Social Studies... Oh, shoot, no shared second hour, then third hour is gym for everyone, fourth hour Stan and I have math, while Kenny and Dee are in Social Studies, and then Stan and Kenny both have fifth hour Science. Oh hey, guys, look at this- all three of you have locker numbers that are pretty close together, but mine's a _lot_ lower..."

"They must assign them by last name." Stan speculated. " _Wait a minute-_ that means we know something about Dee's name! His last name has to start with something between _M_ and _P_ to end up that close to me and Kenny."

" _Ugh,_ that means I'm gonna be somewhere close to Cartman." Kyle's lament came with his head hanging back for a minute, recovering to give everyone's papers back.

"My sympathies." Stan offered while sitting back against the window in the seat he and Kyle were sharing, though there may have been a touch of sarcasm there. Or maybe just _bitterness._ "I swear guys, if I share any classes with that fucking fatass, I just might murder him."

"Whoa, dude, you can't say that stuff anymore." Kyle warned as his own paper got tucked away into a pocket. "I heard some kid got pulled outta class for saying stuff like that- and he wasn't even serious, but they suspended him!"

"What the _hell?"_

" _Mm mmphm mphmm mphmmhm!"_

"That's right, schools are trying to prevent shootings by cracking down on kids who say things that might be considered threats. It was a _huge_ deal in the news just a week ago."

"Well _shit,_ another place I've gotta watch my stupid mouth." Stan grumbled.

"Dude, what is _with_ you today? You've been kinda off all morning..."

 _Took you long enough to notice, Kyle. Not like he's your best buddy or anything._ Dee's own schedule was quickly tucked back into the pocket from whence it came. She was a little sad that she didn't share a lot of classes with the others, but at least she and Kenny would see each other later in the day.

Speaking of Kenny, he'd turned in his seat to peek over the top at Stan, who was looking particularly cagey. His hands were in his coat pockets again, exerting downward pressure and producing tension in his jacket.

"It's nothing. I've just got a _thing_ at home after school, and I'm anxious about it. I'm worried I'm gonna do the _wrong thing_ and mess things up even worse. It's stupid, forget I said anything."

Glances were traded between the three attending friends around the depressed and anxious black hole that was Stan. In those glances, there was a potent mix of curiosity and worry... but Kyle took point in resisting those feelings to support his friend.

"It's okay, dude. Just let us know if there's something we can do to help, okay?"

"You can tell the fatass to _lay the fuck off."_

Kenny's body and head twisted, looking towards the front of the bus, no doubt trying to see what Cartman was currently up to. " _... mmph mphmm mmph mmph mm mmphm mmmph mmph mphmm mph. Mmm mphmmphm mm mphmmm."_

"What the hell, he's roping Butters into his stupid piss prank?" Kyle's disgust was readable both in his face and voice. "He is so fucking immature, and he's dragging Butters down with him."

" _Mmphm mmph mph mmphm mphmmm?"_

"And let him throw piss balloons at _us?"_ Kyle shuddered. "We'd need a plan if we were going to stop him after school, and even then, Cartman can get... _crazy_ when someone ruins his day."

 _Understatement. Still, if we could be **sneaky** about it, it would be worth it to save the elementary school from Cartman's piss. Maybe an anonymous tip... _

Dee reached across the aisle to nudge Kenny and get his attention, proffering her phone with it already in the camera setting. Kenny took it, but his hands reflected confusion. He didn't know what she wanted him to do with it. She pointed to where Cartman was sitting, and tried to _will_ him into understanding.

 _Just take a photo of the fucking fatass, and I'll e-mail it to all the faculty of the elementary school throughout the day. By the time Cartman goes to the roof, he'll have all of his old teachers waiting to stop him... and then some._

Kenny was looking down at her phone, up at her, and to where she was pointing. It took him a few seconds more, but he finally got it with a muffed _'Oh!',_ and turned forwards to try and get a proper shot. Slowly, he had to creep upwards to come higher and higher above his seat.

" _SIT DOWN BACK THERE!"_

The booming cry of the bus driver quickly drove Kenny back onto his butt, but not before he snapped a photo and quickly passed Dee's phone back to her. She checked the shot- he'd managed to zoom in on Cartman enough that there was no mistake of whom was the subject of the photo, despite all the extra people around him. _Excellent._ Now to find out which teachers made their e-mails public... oh, did his mom have a public e-mail, too? She did run that adult tutoring business, e-mail was a great way to make clandestine appointments...

"And there goes Buttlord with his phone." Kyle joked as they quickly lost Dee to the internet. "What do you think he's doing?"

"I have no idea, but if it ruins Cartman's day, I'm all for it." Stan finally spoke, a little positivity entering into his voice, but not his face.

Dee looked up, and found a gentle smile aimed in Stan's direction. _If it brightens your day, even a little, it's a win._

"Oh, hey, guys, did you watch the news this morning? About those shady-ass government agents trying to shut down all of main street?" Kyle questioned, as if he'd meant to mention it all morning but the thought _just now_ returned to strike him upside the head and remind him. "Jeez, Dee, I don't know how you keep finding these guys... but thanks for stoppin' them. I know hiring diversity is important, but shutting down stores punishes all the _other_ employees of a place, when _they_ don't make the decisions on that stuff."

Dee snapped a look to Kyle, reminding him that _there wasn't much worth in a secret identity if he kept blabbing about it all the time._ The stare she gave him was stern, brows coming down for a moment and counting in her head; _one, two, three, four, five,_ before returning to her networking. She'd already found over a dozen e-mails, and it turned out Cartman's mom had a personal e-mail accessible through an... _interesting_ website that made her thankful that her phone's sound was already turned off in preparation for the school day.

"Ah, _jeez,_ sorry. I know, I know, we're not supposed to talk about it, but it's so _legit_ it's really exciting."

" _Mmph, mphm mmphm mm mm mphm mph mphmmm mphm. Mph mmph mm mphmm mphm mm mphm mm mmphm mmphmmphmmm."_

"Hey, keeping your family safe is a really good motivation to do good things- and don't think I don't know _you're_ helping too, Kenny. This vigilante work has Mysterion written all over it."

 _'Fuck'_ was a mostly intelligible word that came out of Kenny's hood as he turned his legs out towards the aisle to rejoin the conversation properly- not that they had much time left. The signal that they were finally on their way to school had been made in the way that no one had gotten on in a while.

It was all just as well, Dee had found all the e-mails she needed. From one of her _many_ dummy accounts, she drafted a message with the photograph attached and the following caption; _'Overheard this kid talking about throwing balloons filled with piss at the elementary students after school, mention of going up to the roof? Trying to blackmail other students into helping him, intends to do it TODAY.'_

"Oh come _on_ man, you know I'm not gonna tell. Just... y'know, if you ever need an extra in one of your _adventures,_ lemme know, okay? I don't think the _Human Kite_ costume fits anymore, but I can always come up with something else in a pinch."

"Oh, jeez, you remember that old _Toolshed_ getup?" Stan laughed faintly, a sense of nostalgia harmonizing with his depressed funk. "And _man,_ Wendy looked _amazing_ as Call Girl."

"Dude, you _always_ think Wendy looks amazing." Kyle smirked. "... though she _was_ pretty boss. I never knew selfie sticks could give such a beat-down."

Dee interrupted the current train of Wendy-praise to reach out to Kyle and tug his sleeve, turning her phone out for him to see the message she typed and whom she was sending it to. Stan and Kenny crowded in around the little screen as well. From slack-jawed reading to genuine twisted pleasure at Cartman's coming suffering, she watched their faces change in step with their respective reading levels.

"Oh man, he's _so_ screwed- this might even get Butters out of trouble." Stan leaned back in his seat. "You gonna send it right away?"

Dee shook her head no. If she sent it right away, phone calls might be made that would get Cartman pulled out of classes, and he'd _know_ someone he told in the morning had blabbed. She'd wait until the end of the day to send it, when he'd spent the whole school day trying to rope other students into helping him and creating a wide pool of possible tattletale suspects.

"You're gonna wait? _Why?"_ Kyle demanded- a demand that was responded to with nothing but her trademark blank stare. "Oh _come on, man,_ that's not fair. If I didn't know Cartman was such a big fat fucking liar, I'd feel jealous that you occasionally _talk_ to him... you _don't,_ right? I mean... of course you don't. You don't talk to anyone."

 _Oh shit, man, you make it hard not to break out into a shit-eating grin. Troll level: over nine thousand._

" _Mm mphmm mphm mm mm mmph mphmm mphmm mmphm mphm mmph mphmmm."_

"Well, _that_ settles it! If he doesn't talk to his super-hero partner, he _obviously_ isn't talking to the fucking fatass."

 _Good God, if only you guys knew..._

* * *

 _:The Author's Corner:_

Dear fucking Christ, Dee is such a goddamned troll.

Also, for Kenny's speech I type out a line that I want him to say, and then type over it with muffled noises. Because it pleases me.

For everyone who has gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it! This reaches the small back-log of chapters I already had written, but I was really excited to get them out there, and chapter four has some good progress on it already.

See ya next time!

-Buttlord


	4. The Gender Issue

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies!- The Gender Issue::**

Dee wasn't feeling well by the time third hour came around and it was time for gym class- and not just because she found out Eric Cartman _also_ had first-hour science. No, _that_ was just going to be a consistently annoying way to start her day for the rest of the school year. _This_ was a strange feeling moved through her guts; not _painful,_ but certainly _off._ A certain lethargy, a _sluggishness_ that pulled on her steps and made her one of the last students to arrive at the gymnasium doors- only to find out the big doors were _locked_ and that there was a printed paper sign pointing off to the right with two words; _LOCKER ROOMS._

Was this another grand change for middle school? Gym classes now required actual athletic-wear? With a shrug, she followed the signs, only to find a greater problem awaiting her when she turned down the side-hall that led to the locker rooms.

There were _Boys_ and _Girls_ locker rooms. Of course; students were hitting puberty, separation of the physical sexes was paramount just as all the really interesting stuff was happening to everyone's bodies. Much as she liked to think she had a choice, that she could simply go in through the boy's locker room today and continue the public farce that she was physically male, that would not be such an easy thing to maintain once everyone was expected to change for this class on a daily basis. What would she do? Go change in the bathroom every day? The guys would notice that she wouldn't change around them, and then the rumors would start flying until _someone [probably Cartman]_ decided it was time to wire up near-by bathroom stalls with cameras to catch the 'horrifying truth' on tape and publicly broadcast it to the school... _or something._

But what about the other option? To simply own it, walk into the girl's locker room, and embrace the reveal? She didn't exactly have anything _planned_ for it, and who _knew_ what kind of craziness would occur once Cartman saw her emerge from the girl's locker room? The only reason she'd been able to hang out with his group was because of the misconception of her being a boy. Cartman himself wasn't a big loss, but she _liked_ hanging out with the others; Kyle, Stan, Kenny- what would they think of her once they found out?

The thought made her light-headed- or maybe that was the rising nausea forming in her gut?

 _Oh shit, nope, that's definitely the nausea._

Cold sweat broke out on Dee's brow as she felt her stomach flip over. _What the hell?_ She felt _fine_ this morning, what the heck was _wrong_ with her? She turned to walk away from the locker rooms, heading back towards the main hallway, but another rebellious tumble of her gut left her leaning against the wall and entirely certain that the contents of her stomach were about to escape via her mouth.

"Oh, _jeez,_ are you okay buddy?"

Dee blinked, and she managed to look up and find Butters standing just in front of her. He looked rather intensely concerned.

"Oh my goodness gracious, you're as pale as a ghost!" He exclaimed. "D-do you need help to the nurse's office?"

 _Not a bad plan... **and** it gets me out of the locker room question, for the moment. Win-win. _Dee nodded a little, accepting Butters' assistance by slinging an arm across his shoulders. He, like many of the boys in her grade level, had gotten quite a bit taller over summer break. He hadn't grown as much as Kenny, but it was still enough to make her feel a touch _short._ Thankfully, the other short thing in this equation was the trip to the nurse's office. Butters led her out into the main hallway, up the corridor, and then off to one of the branching off halls to the right, and then right again.

"Oh _goodness,_ another one?" A saccharine-sweet voice exclaimed. The sort of voice someone expected to come out of a sweet old granny who owned way too many cats.

Dee didn't bother looking up. Moving had aggravated her stomach, and she felt like if she looked anywhere besides her shoes, she was going to lose it.

"I found him just outside the gym, Ms. Merryweather, lookin' like he was about to loose his lunch."

"That's the fifth one so far today!" The nurse, Ms. Merryweather, apparently, marveled. "Go ahead, bring him over to lay down. Let's just hope we don't get any more people in here- I'm out of cots!"

"No problem, Ms. Merryweather. C'mon, buddy, just a little more, right over here... there, you've got it." Butters gently guided Dee to what felt like an old low army cot; though for a school nurse's office, she supposed that was a cheap alternative to other kinds of beds for kids to lay on when they were waiting for their parents to pick them up after the sudden onset of flu or otherwise. She heard groaning from elsewhere in the room, and made a miserable sound of her own as Butters helped her to lay down. The change in perspective from looking down at her toes to up at the ceiling made her feel as if vomiting were imminent, but she managed to hold it down with a clench of her teeth and a deep, slow breath. "There you go, Dee... I hope you feel better, but I gotta get to class! I'll be so grounded if my parents think I tried to skip gym!"

"Oh, here, Butters, I can write you a note... the least I can do in return for you helping these students get here." Ms. Merryweather offered sweetly. "Just pull the curtain to give your classmates some privacy?"

"No problem!" Butters chirruped back, Dee could see the privacy curtain get tugged along a metal track in the ceiling, separating the space her cot occupied both from the rest of the room, and the other cots that were on either side of her.

Groaning, she turned onto her side. There she was able to note a nearby trash can; available in case she actually did throw up. _Good bloody fuck, could this day get any worse?_

She heard one of her adjacent classmates let out a groan of misery. The voice sounded somewhat familiar.

 _Was that Kenny?_

Someone else moved, and Dee recognized the sound of retching. One heave, two, and then the splatter of liquid being ejected into an empty trash bin with a fresh liner.

 _Holy fuck that smells worse than when I do time travel._

"Oh, Summer, are you okay?" Ms. Merryweather was bustling in after having send Butters off with his note.

" _Uuugh..."_ A female voice, Summer apparently, groaned from behind the curtain. "I... I-I think... feels better, now that I've chucked it up..."

"Are you sure? You've vomited, which means I can send you home, even though you don't have a fever... how about you lay down for a little while longer, and then we'll see how you feel, okay? It _might_ have just been something that you ate, or first-day-of-school jitters..." Even as Ms. Merryweather explained the possibilities that were _not_ the flu, she sounded doubtful.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom and splash a little water on my face." Summer stated. "I'm really feeling a _lot_ better after throwing up. I think dad must have under-cooked breakfast or something."

"Okay, Summer. There's a bathroom right over there."

Movement, the smaller footsteps of what had to be a younger person getting up and heading to the restroom while Ms. Merryweather's transitioned to Dee's bedside.

"Well, _hello there."_

Dee's head rolled to look up again. Ms. Merryweather looked the same way she sounded; a rotund woman with a friendly smile and rosy cheeks, and a seriously old-school gray beehive hair-do. At the moment, she was also armed with a thermometer.

"Let's get a temperature real quick, alright?" She covered the metal contact with a plastic protector and handed it down for Dee to take and stick under her own tongue, laying still for the few seconds it took before it began beeping. " _Ah,_ no fever... _again... strange._ Okay, you just lay still and relax, and I'll come check in with you in a little while, alright?"

 _Right. Not going anywhere, big lady._ Dee didn't even nod, just handing the thermometer stick back up. It hadn't even left her hand before someone else in the room began retching, and Ms. Merryweather was sent bustling off to watch over them instead.

Dee was thankful to lay her head back down- the sound of vomiting in the room didn't make it much easier to keep herself from losing her breakfast. Another round of cold sweat had drenched her forehead, and she did her best to just _tune it out_ on sheer willpower. A pattern was forming behind the first student to throw up; Summer had since left the bathroom, told Ms. Merryweather she was feeling good enough to go back to class, and departed just as the next student was claiming they felt a whole hell of a lot better after throwing up. It happened again with another student Dee didn't know- maybe upper classmen? And then she was made certain that the person in the cot next to her was Kenny. She'd heard him throw up a few too many times _not_ to know that it was him.

Two seconds later, she was the one who was loosing it. She knew it the moment she couldn't hold it down anymore, and quickly rolled to clumsily grasp the trash can and let it out. Bitter bile rose up, and the faint remains of her buttered toast breakfast followed soon after... along with... what the hell? She hadn't eaten anything _black_ lately. It looked like traces of _crude fucking oil slick_ in her spew.

"Let me guess, you're feeling better?"

Ms. Merryweather had attended to Kenny first.

"Yeah." He was unmuffled; no doubt he had to pull off all the usual face coverings to throw up. " _Ugh..._ I think..."

 _Yep, that was definitely Kenny._ Why would she, Kenny, and three other random students all get sick in the same way? That was some weird shit right there...

" _Well,_ you could always use it as an excuse to skip school." Ms. Merryweather giggled, as if she were joking, before she lowered her voice and whispered. "No, really, say the word, I'll call your parents if you'd like."

"Nah." Kenny refused. Dee wasn't surprised. At least Kenny got to eat something other than frozen waffles and poptarts at school.

"What about you?" Ms. Merryweather had reached to sweep back the curtain separating Dee's cot from the rest of the room, allowing her to see Kenny with his hood down- and for him to see that it was her occupying the last cot. His eyebrows rose up towards his messy blond hair in surprise. "Are you feeling better, too?" The nurse asked.

Now that Dee thought about it, _she really was._ She felt better as suddenly as she'd felt ill... but going back to class meant returning to the _gym_ dilemma. Maybe she'd just wait out third hour, and then show up for lunch? Yeah, that sounded like a plan. Without a word, she laid back down on the cot and did her best to look _utterly tormented._

"Oh, _really?_ Well, I suppose I can let you rest for a while... um... what's your name?"

"He doesn't talk." Kenny chimed in. "My friends and I call him _Dee."_

"Dee." Ms. Merryweather sounded unimpressed, candy-sweet voice evaporating into a much _flatter_ tone before returning to her usual affectation. "Right. Well, you're both welcome to stay until you're ready to head back- and Dee, if you decide you want me to call your parents, just let me know and I'll send you home."

Now _that_ was a thought; skip out on the rest of the school day. Usually she'd jump at the chance to hurry home and play her GameSphere, but did she really want to go through all the hassle of having her mom come and get her? Her parents were _busy_ people, now that they'd been able to live somewhere long enough to actually get settled in. No, no, she'd sack out until the bell rang for lunch, and leave Gym as the only class she straight-up _skipped_ today.

As Dee had mused on these things, Kenny had departed for the bathroom- the door to which was just across the room from all the cots, and the space allotted to it creating a wall that separated the nurse's office in to halves. Ms. Merryweather had retreated to the other side of this partition for the moment; maybe to make a note of this weird little instance? It sounded as if the woman had noticed all of this was very _strange._

Either way, she laid her head back down on the cot. Skipping class was a great time to catch a _nap._

* * *

"Gotta say, that was pretty fuckin' _slick,_ Douchebag."

Arriving from the nurse's office meant that Dee had a longer walk to the lunchroom than the rest of her classmates, so she rather luckily got to skip the first-day-of-school battle of who got to lay claim to which tables in the lunch room. Cartman had been rather _particular_ about staking a quick claim, and flagging everyone else down as they emerged from the line. The table was classic bench-style, and due to her lateness Dee was left with no choice but to sit on the same side as Cartman... who apparently had words for her as she dug into her cheaply made school hamburger and fries, ignoring the little pile of salad it came with as the token vegetable. Mouth full and eagerly chewing, she was left to give him one of her acknowledging _stares_ until he clarified what he meant.

"I mean, skipping out on gym class so you didn't have to pick a locker room. That's pretty smart, isn't it, _guys?"_

Kenny's head shot up, glaring at Cartman over his own burger. Everyone's coats and hats had been left in their lockers as per school rules, and the muffling scarf loosened to make way for food. It was so _odd_ to see him with his blond head of hair on display. "Dee was fucking _sick,_ man. Ask Butters, he helped Dee to the nurse's office."

"Making the ruse all the more clever, Kenny!" Cartman insisted as if he understood it _all._ "You see my friends, I've had the growing feeling that we've had a _traitor_ in our midst. A _pretender_ if you will. Even..." He trailed off, leaning in to gather tension as Kenny, Kyle, and Stan stared on like Cartman had _[once again]_ lost his goddamned mind. "A _liar,_ if one can stand to use such a _dirty_ term."

 _You're gonna talk about lying? **You?** Go eat your fucking ass out, Cartman, you don't have any proof. _

"Dude, what the _fuck_ are you on about?" Kyle quested as his brows furrowed. "Dee got sick and you're accusing them of what? I literally don't even know what the _fuck_ you're suggesting and I know you're spouting bullshit."

"No, no, _gais, you just can't see it yet._ It's okay, it's to be expected of people of more average intelligence, that's why you have _me_ to sleuth out these dangers for you. You see, over the past year or so, I've come to realize that our friend Douchebag here... _might actually be a chick."_

 _Oh good God, this is happening?_ _ **Today?**_ Dee checked the reactions of the peanut gallery; Kyle and Stan were both rolling their eyes. They didn't believe it, not for even half a heart beat. Kenny didn't even take the time to do that; he was more interested in stuffing ketchup-covered fries in his face.

"Does it even matter, man?" Stan questioned Cartman. "Dee's cool, you're just jealous. Now stop being a dick and spreading rumors."

Cartman was dumbfounded for a moment, the only member of the table who was silent and not stuffing their face. He couldn't comprehend that his _earth-shattering thought_ was shrugged off so easily by his _friends;_ and that the subject of his insidious reveal had not appeared to even _flinch_.

"Alright, well, if Douchebag's a dude then he shouldn't have any problem helping me after school today." Cartman quickly added with a self-satisfied smirk.

" _CARTMAN!"_ Kyle snapped. "No one is going to help you with your _stupid_ prank!"

" _Au contraire mon_ dear Kyle." Cartman held up a finger, shaking it back and forth. "I've found _three_ guys so far that are willing to whip their dicks out and piss in some balloons to toss on some stupid fourth-grade skulls, and if Douchebag _is_ a dude he'll come too and _prove_ it."

"Or, _and this is just a thought..."_ Stan drawled. "He could _ignore the shit out of you,_ like we all started doing _years_ ago."

"Don't let him get to you, Dee." Kyle coached. "He's just being... _Cartman."_

" _I can't fucking believe you guys!"_ Cartman crowed, slamming his hands on the table, attracting attention from neighboring groups as well. "I tell you that one of our number has been an _undercover chick_ for _years,_ stealing our boyhood secrets, and you don't even _care!_ Has she already gotten to all of you with her insidious womanly charms?"

 _Nope. Not dealing with this today. I'm out._ Dee deemed she'd eaten enough of her lunch, and moved to get up and dump the leftovers before seeking a different table to hang out at. Where was Butters? At least that gullible kid would just be generally happy to see her. Then she'd just have to hope she didn't share any other classes with Cartman, because it seemed as if he were rather _latched on_ to this issue.

"Hey, where the _fuck_ are you going? You don't get to just _ignore me!"_

Had Cartman been gearing up to attack her the whole time? It was pure surprise that snapped through her when he slapped her tray out of her hands and went after her; he wasn't that _strong,_ but he did have _bulk,_ and surprisingly sharp nails that dug into her as he grasped at her body and kicked at her shins.

Without thinking, she responded by _biting_ the first accessible piece of flesh. _Hard. Hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to make him cry out and yank away._

He yanked something else away, too. She found herself suddenly bent over by the force of his withdrawal- as her baggy sweater was yanked up from its lower hem and up over her head. She was blind for a few horrifying seconds as her elbows got trapped against the sides of her head, backing away and standing up straight to settle the heavy fabric of her favorite bright blue hoodie back over her person.

When she managed to pop her head back through, she saw that Kenny, Stan, and Kyle had all moved in to restrain Cartman... but there was a look of dumbfounded shock on all four of their faces. It took Dee a moment, but she came to realize that the lunchroom had gone surprisingly quiet, and a great many eyes had turned towards this little altercation. She didn't understand at first- why was everyone _staring?_ It wasn't as if this was the _first_ time Cartman had ever flown off the handle, right?

But they weren't looking at Cartman. They were looking at _her._

 _Her hoodie. Her baggy-ass hoodie, the one she wore to hide the fact that beneath it's bright blue bulk, she was a skinny-ass young lady with budding B cups._

"Holy shit, dude, Dee _is_ a chick!"

Stan's exclamation confirmed her horror. The reveal had finally been made, but entirely against her own will. This wasn't how she wanted it to go down! Not embarrassed and angry in the middle of the fucking lunchroom! She felt her face turning red as she glanced left and right- the _whispering_ was starting. Kids, leaning to one another, laughter going up at select tables that caught and spread like little sparks setting off a wildfire.

" _I FUCKING TOLD YOU GUYS!"_ Cartman boisterously celebrated, shaking off his friends to throw his fists up in the air in triumph. " _Did I not fucking tell you guys? I totally fucking told you guys! Douchebag's got fucking BOOBS!"_

 _Escape. Escape. Get the fuck out._

Wild eyes were looking for the nearest exit. Dee identified an avenue back to the main hall that wasn't clogged with onlookers, and _bolted._ She didn't stop once she was out of the lunch room; she kept going, sprinting until she'd reached the door of the school and gotten outside. How far was it to home? Fuck it, she'd walk. Or run. She wasn't stopping now.

 _Really should have taken that sick day. **Really** should have taken that **fuckin'** sick day._

* * *

 _:The Author's Corner:_

Long chapter today! I'd like to thank everyone who is currently reading; your support is dearly appreciated! Also, just as a little disclaimer: **I am aware of the difference between physical sex and gender identity. My 'New Kid' is cisgendered, she's just gotten very used to hiding the physical traits of her sex, which match her expressed gender identity. This is meant in no way as a slight to people who are not cisgendered who have had to deal with assholes mis-gendering them due to their physical traits.** Hokay? _Hokay._

 _ONWARDS!_


	5. Wendy is a Boss, Off-Screen

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Wendy Is a Boss, Off-Screen::**

" _Na-na-na-na-na-naaah, Douchebag's a fuckin' chi-iick~"_

The temptation to punch Cartman in his stupid fat face was an overwhelming one, but somehow, _somehow,_ Kenny held back. Did he _realize_ what he even just _did?_ Even if Cartman had just been trying to hold on tight enough to try and beat Dee up, what ended up happening was like forcing a gay kid out of the closet before they were ready to tell others. Where was Dee even _running_ to? He hadn't seen anyone chase after... her? Ugh, that was a weird way to think of Dee. For all they knew, Dee identified as a boy and was trans. It wasn't like the kid _talked_ about his gender identity. For now, Kenny decided he was still going to think of Dee as a guy- at least, until told otherwise.

If he thought of him as a girl, he might think entirely too hard about those briefly exposed breasts half the lunchroom had seen.

" _Dude,_ he- _she fucking bit you!"_ Stan crowed, finally seeing the faint bloom of blood coming through the forearm of Cartman's shirt.

"Oh, fucking _gross!_ I'm gonna get fucking _cooties_ from that _stupid bitch!"_ Cartman was now looking down at where he was bleeding, outrage replacing victory.

"... Cooties? What are you, _five?"_ Kyle rolled his eyes.

No doubt a fresh round of bickering was about to unfold, but school authorities were moving in; two hall monitors and a skinny woman with mean eyes who had been watching the general goings-on since lunch began. Oh, right; fighting, stripping, and swearing were all generally _frowned_ upon at school. Kenny realized this was his last chance to decide to go after Dee, or spend the rest of the afternoon in the principal's office.

He decided to chase, ducking and running the same way Dee had; towards the main hallway that would lead to the general entrance of the school, off of the bus parking lot, if followed to the end. He heard someone yell at him, a threat of suspension, but he didn't particularly _care._ Instead, his attention was focused on glancing into side-halls he passed by, searching for a place Dee might have gone to _hide..._ but that didn't seem his style. If Dee had committed to running, he was going to _run,_ possibly all the way back to downtown South Park, or home.

Kenny made it all the way to the doors that led to the outside. No sign of him.

"She's gone."

Who was that? Kenny's head twisted, and found Wendy near-by. She'd been in the lunch room not long ago, at a table near theirs; had she given chase when Dee first ran off?

Interesting, the way Wendy said 'she'- as if she were used to it.

"... you knew?" Kenny asked, his voice clear for once since he still had his muffler pulled down from eating.

"Back when she first moved in." Wendy agreed. It took a second for Kenny to realize she sounded _pissed._ A quiet bitterness that maybe wouldn't punch someone in the face, but would _probably_ stab someone up the ass if given the chance... and that someone was probably Cartman. "She never _talked_ about it, of course, but I got the feeling that she wanted to... y'know, pick her own moment to try and tell people. What just happened back there? Not _fucking_ okay. Stan didn't have anything to do with that, did he?"

"Fuck no." Kenny could respond with confidence. _None_ of them did. "That was _all_ Cartman."

"And you're going after her?" Wendy asked, cocking her head a little. "Do you have any idea where she'd _go_ after something like this?"

Kenny's first reflex was to answer _no, he didn't-_ but then he thought better of it. He probably spent more time with Dee out of anyone because of their _night-time work;_ Mysterion and Buttlord had partnered up more than a dozen times in the years since Dee's arrival to take care of government agents searching for his- _her? Fuck,_ _ **their**_ family. And more besides, whenever he felt he had something Buttlord could help with. Yeah, sure, Call Girl had become an important part of their team as well, but she was usually off-location. Once the job was done, she just returned to whatever she was doing that night while Mysterion and Buttlord cleaned up the mess. _Occasionally_ they'd just hang out, too, sometimes even meeting up after the costumes were changed out of because they were too charged up to just go the fuck to bed.

 _Does this make Dee the Buttlady instead of Buttlord?_

Usually, that thought would have gotten an immature laugh. Instead, he just nodded. Yes, he did have an idea of where Dee would run after being made to feel vulnerable like this.

"Then get going." Wendy encouraged. "I'm going to go get Stan and Kyle out of trouble- Cartman can roast on his own for this."

* * *

Dee had decided against going home by the time she'd run out of energy to run. What was at home? Home was _fucking empty._ Her mom wouldn't be back until four-ish, and dad would be gone until nearly seven if the recent schedule held. Yeah, sure, she could sit and play her GameSphere for a few hours, but she'd be _stewing_ the whole damn time. No, no, _no,_ she needed a place she could calm the fuck down... and it didn't take her long to decide and make a course-correction towards Stark's Pond.

Upon arrival, she found a bench and collapsed onto it. How long had that taken? An hour? Well, no one could accuse her of not getting her cardio in.

Somehow, she doubted those would be the accusations she'd be facing tomorrow.

 _Rewind. Just go back and take a re-do. You know you can do it- what's the point of having the ability to rip time and space if you don't use it once in a while for personal gain? You were thinking about doing it this morning, too... though, that was mostly to get out of doing something terrible to elementary schoolers._

She sighed, leaning forward off of the back of the bench. She was at the south shore of the pond, leaning on her elbows and staring out at it. The fresh snow from the morning had been only partly cleared off of the paths, but the pond itself reflected a snowy wonderland that let her ignore more modern and mundane concerns to just breathe deeply and enjoy the scent of pine intermingled with local hobos.

 _It was going to happen sooner or later. It wasn't like you were going to be able to hide it forever- and why do you **care** so much? Because you might lose friends? **Your super power is gaining fans wherever you go.** Finding a new group to hang out with won't be hard._

For some reason, that last thought made her feel worse. Were all her friends just... interchangeable _?_ Able to be swapped out like gears in a machine?

 _I like my current group. Even Cartman, sometimes... mostly just to troll him, though. Stan and Kyle are good guys, and Kenny has helped me out more times than I wanna count... what do they even think of me now? **FUCK.**_

"You okay?"

Dee straightened up, snapped out of her thoughts for her body to whip around and address the intruder upon her thoughts with a properly piercing stare.

Instead, she found herself disarmed with surprise.

 _Kenny?_

The poor guy looked cold; she had run out during lunch, and no one was allowed to wear their outwear during the school day anymore. The fact that he didn't have his big orange parka protecting him from the elements said that he'd taken off without stopping at his locker to gather his things- had he chased after her?

 _What the fuck are you doing here?_ Her brows came down, and she glared at him before looking away, crossing her arms over her chest; the international posture for _go the fuck away._

A second later, she felt a hand smack her upside the head. It made her jump up from the bench, turning around and once again looking at him. Was me mad? No, no, there wasn't that much anger in his posture. No, he was _upset,_ but not _pissed._

"Are you _fucking insane?"_ He demanded. "What, you're just going to sit out in the cold and _sulk?"_

Sulk? She wasn't _sulking,_ she was just thinking shitty thoughts. Alone.

 _Goddamnit I hate it when he's right._

"The day hasn't restarted, so I assume you've decided not to go back and try it again?"

She gave him a shrug. Technically it was always an option, but it did seem a rather _petty_ use of her abilities. Life would go on, the world would keep turning. Besides, she had no idea if the government had developed any sort of _detector_ for the gassier of her abilities. Over-use would just give them a greater chance to develop one.

He nodded a little, moving around the bench to have a seat himself and blowing into his un-gloved hands to warm them, rubbing his palms together for the friction when he next spoke. "Listen, I just want to make this as... _not weird_ as I can, okay? I just wanted to tell you _I don't fucking care._ He, she, they, person, _whatever,_ I really don't care. If Cartman wants to throw a shitfit because I keep hanging out with you after this, he can go suck his own dick, alright?"

What? She'd ask that again, _what?_ She didn't move but to cock her head to one side, blinking at him a few times as she tried to process the fact that he was saying... well, exactly everything to debunk what it was she was so _fucking_ afraid of- that finally telling people would change who she got to hang out with, and how they treated her. Once it was allowed to tumble through her brain for a few moments, she was left with a single word.

" _Oh."_

Kenny's head jerked up this time; at least they were spreading the whiplash around equally.

She was intensely aware of his gaze as she moved to have a seat on the bench, next to him, and warm her own frozen fingertips. Like him, her outwear was still in her locker at school... and man oh man was she regretting not going back for her _gloves_ at the very least. Kenny, on the other hand, had ceased his attempts at warmth to look at her with mute shock that she'd _said something_ for the first time since they'd played Stick of Truth... which, she realized now, he _hadn't_ been there, because 'Princess Kenny' had betrayed everyone. He hadn't been there, never heard her voice before aside from random grunts of pain during their night work.

Her voice sounded a _lot_ more feminine now. Particularly in comparison to a group of boys who's balls were just starting to drop.

"Stop fucking staring, you'll make me feel like more of a freak than I already am." She scolded him, blowing into her hands before and after her terse words.

" _Fuck you,_ after a couple years of _silent treatment_ I get to stare a _little."_

Lips pursed as she looked at him... before finding a sly smile. "Don't get used to it. I only talk to people who I think are _worth the effort,_ and only alone. Someone walks by? I'm back to mute. Got it?"

"Got it... _wait,_ does this mean all the times Cartman said you talked to him...?"

 _That_ actually got a devilish giggle out of her. Cartman was just too much fun to _troll_ like that, and all it took was dropping a word here or a phrase there. Still grinning, she applied a single cold finger to her lips, emphasizing that it was a secret that shouldn't be told. However, thinking of Cartman reminded her that she owed that fucker some _serious_ revenge; sooner rather than later. A hand went into her kangaroo pocket on her sweater and found her phone to check the time- 1:45. _Almost_ time to send the photo Kenny took for her on the bus that morning, but not quite there yet. If she sent it now, he'd just get pulled out of class... assuming he wasn't still getting yelled at in the Principal's office. Frankly, the fat fuck might have even gotten _sent home-_

That broke her train of thought. If he got sent home, he'd just manipulate his mom into taking him into the elementary school anyway. He could very well be filling piss balloons on the roof _right now._

"What's up?" Kenny sensed the change in her mood, watched the expression on her face fade from demented glee into concerted worry.

"Cartman. Do we know what happened to him after...?"

"I can find out." Kenny responded without hesitation, fishing out his own phone.

Dee always wondered what the _hell_ Kenny did for whom every year to get his hands on the latest iPhone and a plan to run it on. Having one of her rare articulate moments, she was half tempted to ask... but what if the answer was worse than the question? Instead she just watched over his shoulder as he texted Wendy, asking how things shook out. The response was swift: Kyle and Stan had been easily acquitted by a dozen eye-witness reports that they tried to stop Cartman [all from the girls' table next door], and Cartman's mother had been called to take him home. Last word heard was he'd be suspended for a week.

 _Right. Sending that e-mail **now,** then. _Dee went to work, sending off the e-mails she drafted on the bus to send out to both the middle school and elementary school staff. If Cartman had tried to manipulate his way into having his first-day-of-school _last harrah,_ she was going to make sure it blew up in his stupid face.

"I almost forgot about that." Kenny admitted, peeking over her shoulder in return. "Heh, maybe he won't go. Before I left, he was complaining he probably had _cooties."_

 _What? Seriously? What is he, like... five?_ "... you're kidding."

"No, you bit him hard enough that he bled, and he was _convinced_ he was going to get 'stupid girl cooties'."

" _Jeez..." I didn't think I bit him **that** hard. Weird, I'm not usually a biter... then again, I'm not usually attacked by small elephant spawn either. _She shook her head. It didn't do to dwell. She'd worry about Cartman's bullshit another day- specifically, another day _a week from now,_ when he wasn't suspended anymore. Standing up, Dee was all ready to invite Kenny to come hang out with her and play games until the school day let out and they both inevitably got yelled at and/or grounded for cutting school... when the nausea she'd felt earlier that day made a come-back.

It was sudden. One moment she'd felt perfectly _fine [if somewhat cold],_ and the next? She _knew_ she was about to be sick, and turned away from Kenny before the spew ended up being on his face. The retching came must faster this time, her whole mid-body clenching in and making her bend. Knees in the snow, she doubled over and heaved at the edge of the pond.

 _God_ she hated throwing up after recently eating. _So fucking gross. What the fuck was even going on, anyway?_ She was sick before lunch, and got over it, _ran a couple miles,_ sat down, talked with a friend, and _now_ she was sick again?

Behind her, Kenny was throwing up, too. She could hear him. _He_ had been just fine, _too._ She would have noticed if he'd been feeling ill... _and_ he'd kept up with her on her mad run/jog from school.

 _Why is this happening to us?_

She spat as her stomach settled, wiping her face with her sleeve and wishing she could get the smell of bile out of her nose. Looking down she could see what little she'd eaten of her burger and fries... and more of that _black shit_ that had been in her vomit in the nurse's office. It wasn't at the bottom of a black trash can, letting her pretend she was just _seeing things_ after she'd left. No, no, there it was on white fucking snow, in broad fucking daylight; like the contents of her guts were _contaminated_ with fucking _tar._

Looking back, she saw Kenny still sitting on the bench, holding on to his knees. His head hung, hiding his expression, but the puddle he'd just thrown up was easy to see.

 _He'd just thrown up some black shit, too._

* * *

::The Author's Corner::

 _The plot thickens..._

Hey everyone, I just wanted to thank and welcome all the new watchers who added this fic to their followed list! It means the world to me that you like the story enough to let it pester you in your e-mail. XD I also wanna thank everyone who has taken the time to review; apologies for the spelling slip ups! I'll do my best to watch dog it, but I'll let everyone know that this is a _pleasure project_ I'm making while getting ready for a military move from Washington State to Guam, so I may not have the time nor energy to make every chapter as technically perfect as it could be. That said, I hope it is in a state where y'all can still enjoy it!

See ya next time!

 _ONWARDS!_


	6. WAIT, WHAT?

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - WAIT, WHAT?!::**

If anything was consistently true, it would be that Butters was always excited to be _included._ When Eric had approached him earlier that day and asked if he'd be interested in participating in a ' _totally sweet prank'_ at the elementary school after they got out, he was so excited he didn't actually ask any questions about _what_ the prank was.

Now he was beginning to wish he did. Cartman had given him very specific directions of which bus stop to get off at so that he'd be as close as possible to the elementary school... but school hadn't _let out_ the way it should have. In fact, classes had been interrupted to order all the students to the gymnasium, and Butters had felt a rush of _fear_ pass through him that he wouldn't be able to participate if he was stuck in the gym for some kind of fire drill or whatnot. All at once, Butters decided that _being included_ was more important to him in that moment. As students stepped out of class doors and poured into the hallways to funnel towards the gym, Butters quietly sank back and away from the crowd to duck into one of the bathrooms off the main hallway. Once there, he waited until the noise of steps and voices and chatter ceased. For a long while, he was alone with the quiet of the bathroom and his own heartbeat.

 _I'm totally cutting class to do something cool. I feel so grown up._

After that, Butters decided he just needed to find the nearest door- even emergency escapes would do. He'd be gone before anyone came to investigate... then again, if it were a fire drill or something, would the main office still have people in it? He hadn't been listening to the announcement, he'd been so caught up with his own sense of rebellion. Certainly he could _peek_ into the front office without being caught- and if no one was there, he could just slip out the front door and hoof it to the nearest regular bus stop.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he could feel his heart in his throat. "... maybe this wasn't such a great idea..." He muttered to himself, looking up and down an eerily empty hallway- why were schools always so _creepy_ when they were _empty?_ Temptation flared up to duck back into the bathroom, to hide away and accept that he was too much of a chicken to actually go through with this... but the very thought made him _determined_ to march out of that bathroom and do what he set out to do- _cut school. Do something cool. Be awesome. Be better than lame Butters who would have totally hid in that bathroom until school the next day._

He made it only a few steps down the hall before he adhered himself to a wall, the security of the faux stonework aiding a hurried shimmy down the empty corridor and towards the main office. All along the way, he didn't hear a single sound he usually associated with a drill of any sort- no sirens or buzzers or flashing lights. Had it been a drill for a bomb threat, where they just evacuate the school?

 _Had it been a real evacuation? No, someone would have searched the bathrooms, police would be going through the school with a fine-toothed comb if that was what was going on._

He looked up. Still no activity in the rest of the school. _Nothing._ Somehow, that was worse than anything else. The stillness felt like a rope closing around his neck, choking out his will to continue forward when all he wanted to do was run back to the safety of the little boy's room and hide. It was just a few more feet before he'd be able to peek into the main office, and that distance felt like a yawning chasm that dropped miles into the earth with simply no hope of crossing.

With a gulp of air, he forced himself those few more steps forward with his eyes screwed closed. His hand became his guide, pressed along the wall, searching for the edge. When he found it, he grasped it and yanked himself up to the corner to open his eyes and _look._

Upon arrival, he forgot to open his eyes. He kept them closed, biting the inside of his cheek. If someone was there, they would yell at him, right? _Someone_ would tell him he wasn't supposed to be here, then he could say he got _lost,_ and everything would be okay and forgiven.

No one yelled. No one shouted. Nothing happened.

Carefully, Butters finally peeked... to see an empty main office. No secretary guarding the stack of visitor passes, nor the microphone for the announcements. No administrators going through papers. No sign of the principal lurking about, and the door to their office was wide open. Most importantly? _There was no one between him and the doors._

Everything after that was a mad dash. Butters barely remembered it, to be fully honest. He booked it out of those glass doors, and straight to the nearest commercial bus stop that would take him back to town. It was _there,_ where he was catching his breath, that he found himself joined by some other boys he didn't know who all appeared to be older than him. At the very least, they were all _taller_ than him, and using that height to look down at him like he didn't belong. Were they students? Could have been, but Butters had not been looking for any prints on the snow-laden sidewalk that led away from the school.

Were they like him? Other pranksters who heard the announcement and decided to leave? That might have been a stretch. He kept his mouth shut until the bus arrived, and sat far away from them when they got on the bus. It wasn't until they all _departed_ at the same stop, the stop closest to the elementary school, that Butters got the feeling that there needed to be an introduction of some kind. With the way they were looking at him, it was either that or get beaten up for _following_ them.

"W-well hey there, fellas." He greeted, trying to be polite but that sheepish stutter leaving him on shaky social ground. "Are you here for Eric's prank, too?"

 _That_ changed the tone. The bigger boys looked at each other, and smiled. One of them nodded. "That's right, kid. C'mon, we know a back-way up to the roof that will make this a cakewalk."

Not for the first time, Butters had a terrible feeling about this. As the troope began to move on, he began to notice details about where they were; the not-so-distant wail of police sirens, the fact that there seemed to be cars lining the street that went up to the school. Had something happened _here,_ too?

 _ **Last chance to chicken out, buddy. You gonna take it?**_

The answer in his head was yes. Yes he was. He was going to lag behind, turn around, and _go home._ Cartman could say what he wanted about it later, this had gone _far enough_ for today.

"Hey, _short stuff,_ you comin'?" One of the big kids had noticed he wasn't following, looking back and shouting for him.

 _Oh hamburgers._

"W-well, sorry guys but, uh..." Hands got shoved into his coat pocket to keep the fact that he was shaking as hidden as possible. "I just realized that I... _um..._ forgot! I forgot that I have something I need to do at home today- I gotta go, or I'll be in _big_ trouble. So... uh... you fellas have fun without me, okay?"

The rest of the big-kid group turned around, looking at him with scary eyes that made their smiles seem insincere. The tallest, the one who had said this would be a cakewalk, came back to slip an arm around Butters' shoulders and guide him into a little huddle between him and his buddies. "Listen, kid, it sounds to me like you're _chickening out._ You wouldn't be doing that, now, _would ya?"_

" _W-what? No!"_ He insisted, though he felt intensely small. This was less like a huddle and more like a prison made out of people. Shoulders narrowed and his head ducked down; all subconscious reflexes to make himself seem as small as possible. "I'm not a chicken! I-I just... just remembered I have to do something with my family today. I've gotta go, or my dad will _kill_ me." _Figuratively,_ anyway.

"And what about the prank? The fat kid told me he needed as many boys he could get in order to make it work." One of the other boys quested. "If you don't come, you might ruin it."

 _Oh jeez, they were right._ Butters didn't want to ruin Eric's prank- that might ruin his whole day, especially after he got sent home after lunch for pulling that one kid's shirt off. Butters hadn't actually _seen_ what had happened, but he'd heard it second hand through the rest of the day from people who had been up-close. Apparently Dee was a girl? That would explain why he always thought she was so _pretty,_ and made him feel a little less gay for thinking that. _Point was,_ Eric would be really upset if his prank got ruined...

"I-I guess I didn't think of that..."

"This Eric kid is your friend, right?" The guy holding him asked. "You wouldn't wanna leave a friend hanging, would you?"

 _Friend_ wasn't always the term, but Eric was the one who included him the most... even if he usually got in trouble. Butters wasn't really sure how to file the relationship, but the idea of _disappointing_ Eric was a potently frightening one.

" _Of course not."_ Butters agreed, trying to smile. It felt a little painful.

"See? The kid's not a chicken, he's a _good guy."_ The guys broke up as the kid keeping him secure let him go, patting him on the back as he did so. "So come on, Mr. Good Guy, let's go help your friend."

The big kids laughed. Butters let out a sheepish chuckle.

Like it or not, he was going up.

* * *

"Okay, what the _fuck?!"_

Frankly, Dee felt there was nothing to add to that. Kenny had exclaimed the thought both of them wanted to scream at the cloudy September sky, examining the ejected contents of their stomachs and the black ooze that was present in both. The fact that they'd been part of a group of five random kids who had all gotten ill at the same time was just _weird,_ but this? This was going past _weird_ and into _scary._ Kenny had popped up off of the bench, walking away a few steps before rounding back and wringing his hands.

"I felt fine... I _feel_ fine. I just _threw the fuck up_ and... what about you?"

Even as he asked, Dee could see the wheels turning inside his head. He was putting together the rest of his day, searching for an odd happening that might have caused this- but there wasn't enough information just yet.

Dee nodded as he asked; she was the same. She'd felt fine right up until she'd vomited, and then she felt okay again... which was odd considering it was now afternoon and she hadn't kept _anything_ in her stomach for more than a few hours. She had scrambled up from the snow by now, getting caked chunks of the icy white off of her baggy jeans with a few swipes of her hands before going back to blowing heated air into her cupped fingers. "Wendy." She suggested after a second- their favorite information mole could check everyone's social media and see if anyone was posting about sudden sickness.

"On it."

Kenny's phone was back out, the things around them deathly quiet as he sent off the text requesting Wendy do some hunting for them. Faintly, in the distance, Dee thought she could hear... sirens? _Yeah, those are sirens. A lot of them. Where are they going?_ It was hard to guess with how far-off they sounded; Stark's Pond was a distance from the main roads.

"Do you hear that?" Dee murmured, straining to get a better idea of which direction it was in, but the fluffy winter-wonderland style snow all around made it ill defined and muffled.

Kenny hit the send button before he stopped to listen. "... yeah..." He agreed, right before his cellphone rang- effectively disturbing the silence. He was dumbfounded for a moment, looking down at who was calling him.

"... it's Wendy." He noted towards Dee before picking up. "Uh... hello?" A pause; Dee could faintly hear Wendy's voice on the other side, but not exactly what she was saying. "Oh, yeah, Dee's with me. Right, got it." The iPhone was pulled away from his ear, and with a button press Dee could hear what was happening on the other line; general ambiance of many voices, echoing in a large room. "Okay, you're on speaker."

" _They canceled last hour- announcement sent everyone to the gym. One girl attacked another; police and ambulance are on the way, but only one girl saw it- it happened in the bathroom."_

Glances were traded between Dee and Kenny. What the _hell_ was wrong with today?

"Any idea who was involved?"

" _Two girls. Police have a girl named Summer Underwood in custody, and the girl she attacked... it was Bebe. She's okay, but guys... Summer_ _ **bit**_ _her. There's blood everywhere."_

 _Apparently biting is popular today..._

Dee blinked shortly after that thought, snapping a look to Kenny. Did he recognize the name? There had been a Summer in the nurse's office. From his expression, he remembered, too- and it connected things.

 _That_ was always a bad sign in South Park.

"Can you find out more about this Summer person? We saw her earlier today- both Dee and I got sick before lunch, and there was a Summer there, too. Anyone else who's gotten sick today, too. Look for any mention of _vomiting black."_

" _... ew. Got it. Wait- wait- are you guys thinking...? What, Summer bit someone because she was **sick?** Like some kind of zombie?" _

"I didn't say that- we just know that _a_ Summer was sick earlier today, along with another two students besides us; all sick in the same way, at the same time."

" _Suggesting simultaneous exposure to whatever made you guys sick..."_ Wendy muttered, which hadn't even entered into Dee's head yet. Yes, sure, she'd been considering the _how_ of _how_ five students all turned up in the nurse's office at the same time, but the key component of not just _what_ they came into contact with, but what _time_ they came into contact with it had not yet burrowed itself into her thought process. As far as _she_ knew, she didn't personally know anyone named Summer, but she also had not seen what the girl looked like because of the curtain that had been drawn around her cot. Could they have ridden the same bus? Arrived at school the same time? And if someone who _got sick_ with them was now _attacking_ other people... _"Wait a minute... 'Besides 'us'?' you mean you and Dee were...?"_

"That's why we were in the nurse's office. I've watched too many fucking bad zombie movies not to be up front about that shit. We haven't attacked anyone so far today, though. Cartman started that bullshit at lunch."

Dee nodded along to that assessment, but only at first. The more she thought about it, the more she began to question- _why_ did she bite Cartman? She wasn't the sort, and she could have easily kicked him in the balls; a _much_ more effective tactic than laying teeth in a guy. For some reason, _biting_ had been an almost reflex reaction... and she'd bit _hard._ Had she just been surprised and angry, or had there been another reason to it? She only mused for so long before reaching out to Kenny, tugging his sleeve and miming biting her own arm.

"Huh...? Oh, _right,_ uh... Dee bit Cartman at lunch, when he attacked her. I saw the damage; he was bleeding."

" _... and he got sent home."_ Wendy observed, though there was a small tremor of _dread_ in her voice.

"Actually..." Kenny was about to explain what Cartman was _probably_ up to at this moment, but didn't get the chance. Someone else was talking to Wendy on her side- _yelling at her,_ more precisely.

" _Are you on your phone? Turn it off, right now! Did you hear me, kid, turn it off!"_

"Get the hell out of there, Wendy!" Kenny suddenly shouted. "Don't get on the bus, _don't get on the fucking bus!"_

There was no confirmation on whether Wendy heard him or not; just the sound of the line clicking off and the little beeping tone that deemed the call over. Kenny stared at his phone for a little while longer, as if willing it to ring again for her to call him back and tell him all was well... but no such thing occurred for more than thirty seconds. Dee called it a lost cause, and decided to move on.

"... Cartman isn't at home." She noted.

"I _know."_ Kenny responded darkly, more than half-way to the voice he tended to use while in the Mysterion get-up. "But _you_ didn't attack him, you _defended_ from an attack. It wasn't mindless. You're still... _you,_ right?"

"As much as you're _you_ right now." Was all she could think to say- _he_ was throwing up, too, after all. But why? Why him, her, Summer, and two other randos? What was the common element, besides the school? Something was happening in South Park, and they were lacking _any_ of the information needed to fight back. " _Fuck-_ we need a _game plan,_ Kenny; _I told half the staff of South Park elementary what he was planning,_ they're gonna go up there to stop him, and if he _is_ infected with some kind of _zombie bullshit_ that we're carrying because I _bit_ him?" Fear was running away with her, the idea of some Cartman zombie infecting school officials she'd sent up there to stop his fat ass. And what about the kids he'd been gathering up to help him?

"Stop saying zombies!" Kenny demanded; his face was mostly dead as he reviewed the situation in his own head. "We don't know _anything_ for sure, besides the fact that _we're_ vomiting gunk. We never saw the other kids' spew, we don't know if the bite-y Summer is the same Summer who was there with us, and we don't know if Cartman is infected with anything but his own extreme asshole syndrome... and Wendy _probably_ needs an extraction."

 _So what? We're just going to waltz up to the school and sneak her out?_ That seemed like a terrible plan, so Dee didn't voice it. Between the two of them, Kenny had more experience; she'd let _him_ come up with the plan.

"We stand to gain the most information by capturing Cartman and observing him." He decided with a self-satisfied nod.

 _And the elementary school is a **lot** closer than the middle school. _Dee nodded as well, signaling her agreement. Before they got moving, however, Kenny reached out for her and grabbed her by the shoulder. It was not a friendly or encouraging grab- his hand was tight, almost painful, as he gave her a serious stare.

"If this _is_ everything we're afraid it is, I want you to go back- at least a week. Don't hesitate, don't tell me, just _do_ it if you feel like you're losing control or dying from the inside, got it? I have been a zombie _twice,_ and it sucked _both times."_

 _Yeah, but you chose it when you were a Princess. I remember beating the ever-living shit out of you... maybe that's why it sucked?_

"Got it."

* * *

::The Author's Corner::

All I have to say is... _poor Butters._

 _-Buttlord_


	7. Breaking Quarantine

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Breaking Quarantine::**

" _Are you on your phone? Turn it off, right now! Did you hear me, kid, turn it off!"_

Wendy had been wandering the gym throughout her call with Kenny; mainly because every time kids clustered up into a group, a teacher began hovering near-by. The hope was that by moving around, she'd avoid notice for longer; a plan that had worked _swimmingly_ right up until the teachers in the room found themselves with back-up from the local police. The change was sudden; one moment there was only a single uniform in the room, nearest to the set of double-doors that led from the gym back into the main hallway. He'd been talking with the school nurse, who had watched over Bebe until the ambulance arrived. The next moment, it appeared half the South Park police force poured in through said double-doors to take up sentry positions at every exit... and patrol up and down the massive space, helping the teachers keep an eye out for trouble makers.

Wendy was flagged shortly after that. It was a police officer yelling at her to get off of her phone, not a teacher.

" _Get the hell out of there, Wendy!"_ Kenny suddenly shouted into her ear. _"Don't get on the bus,_ _ **don't get on the fucking bus!"**_

There was no time to respond; she hung up as she ducked down and quickly threw herself into the nearest gathering of paranoid pre-teens. "Sorry!" She called out as she moved through the semi-circle that had quickly broken apart with no small amount of rude language shouted after her. At this moment? It didn't matter. More shouting after she passed told her that she still had a police man chasing her down- _probably_ to take her phone away... and she just couldn't have that, now could she?

With another smart duck, Wendy began to bob around the next group of students in her path, thinking on her feet. She needed privacy- which meant it was time to beg for a bathroom break from one of the _oh-so-friendly_ police officers who just came in to block off all the doors. Once locked in a stall, she'd be able to make contact with a few others as well as decide how she was getting the hell out of this school on any transportation that was _not_ the bus. She didn't know why Kenny had decided _that_ was the big deal, but she trusted his instincts. He and Dee had been doing the whole _superhero_ thing, for real, for long enough that he'd developed a set of skills that did surprisingly well at keeping everyone in one piece and _not_ grounded... better than Dee's plans. Her ideas tended to be messy, without the little details thought through.

She looked back; the officer who had been behind her had lost her in the crowd. He was searching, which meant it was a great time to _stop moving._

"It's W-W-Wendy!"

 _Huh?_ She'd been noticed by the small knot of kids she'd taken shelter behind; it was only now that she realized it was Jimmy, Timmy, and a smattering of other boys in her grade level. Honestly, where she was crouched looked like she was setting up Jimmy to be tripped; all she needed was someone to shove him over her. Perking her head up, she pressed a finger to her lips and pointed back to the officer who was sweeping his gaze back and forth, looking for her.

"Ah! A d-da- … d-da-daa... a _damsel in distress!"_ Jimmy exclaimed. "Quick everyone, c-cluster up around T-Timmy!"

Wendy saw what Jimmy was doing; Timmy's wheelchair made excellent cover, and everyone else formed into an amorphous human shield. She quickly shifted forward a little more to place Timmy between her and the officer, with Timmy's own stare playing look-out.

After a few tense moments, _"Timmy!"_ was the cry of all-clear, and Wendy allowed herself a faint sigh of relief before standing up.

"Thanks, guys." Her gratitude was sincere, but she was still in a rush. The sooner she got to an actual computer, the more help she could be in figuring out what was going on. "Hey, wait- do any of you have your cell phones?"

"F-For emergencies, of c-c-course." Jimmy stuttered out, adjusting himself to face Wendy. "D-D-did you loo... loo... _lose_ yours?" Jimmy looked worried, as did this general grouping around him. Timmy had his own murmurings of concern, though she would have needed Jimmy to translate for her if she wanted half a clue as to what he was saying. "Is s-something wrong?" He asked, suspicion growing as he no doubt adjusted to her sudden appearance and began to question _why_ she'd been hiding from a cop while they were all waiting to be taken home.

She wasn't going to answer any questions right now- _she didn't have the time._ "Call your parents. Ask them to take you home- tell your friends. _Don't get on the bus."_

With that, she turned to continue her journey across the gym, towards the locker rooms. No doubt she'd left all of her peers confused, but if this was what they feared? She was beginning to understand what Kenny was saying. If this _was_ a zombie thing, and these students got onto buses with possible unidentified infected individuals? They'd be trapped. Frankly, weren't they trapped already? _Everyone,_ bottled up in the gym- because a girl bit another girl in the bathroom? _That_ was a bit of an over-reaction on the school's part, now that she thought about it.

 _Quarantine. They're setting up quarantine. The buses- they're not going to take anyone home._

It hit her just as she was approaching the officer guarding the girl's locker room. Quickly, she took on the affectation of someone very nervous; wringing her hands in front of herself, looking down, squishing her shoulders in together to make herself appear smaller. All _uncomfortable_ body language that suggested vulnerability- what _any_ kid should have been feeling in this situation. "E-excuse me, sir? I... I need to use the restroom."

"Hold up, little miss." The officer was stern, but not mean. One hand held up, asking her to wait, while the other went for his radio. "Need a female escort by the locker rooms, over."

"Escort?" Wendy asked in a little air-headed voice. "Is... is something wrong?"

"We just want to make sure everyone gets on the bus, little miss." The officer assured, not even looking at her now. He was looking up, to where a woman was bustling their way from the main doors. Was she a teacher? Could have been, but Wendy didn't know her. She didn't _look_ like anyone special; brown hair, pale skin- _serious expression._ When she arrived, the officer gestured to Wendy. "Young lady needs to use the restroom. Keep her in sight."

"Go it." The serious lady responded with a nod before looking down to Wendy. "After you, kiddo- there's stalls in the locker rooms, right?"

 _Not a teacher. A teacher would know unless they were new._

The officer moved aside, and Wendy nodded a little as she grabbed the handle of the door and pulled. Beyond was a short S-bend in the hallway to keep peering eyes from outside the door from seeing to the main locker room within- which was a room of simple beige, gray, and off-white tiles, wooden benches, and beige cube-shaped lockers. Bigger lockers were built into the walls- for the sports teams to use, lining the bulk of the space that extended off to the right. To the left, a doorway into an alley of shower nozzles and drains, followed by a trio of bathroom stalls.

 _Ugh, water. Even the most modern phone's mortal enemy._

Thoughts of locale aside, Wendy found herself urged forward by the serious woman's _stare._ She parked herself at the doorway, leaning against the tiled wall, as Wendy continued towards the stalled toilets to select which one she was going to concoct her plan in. Despite it being the first day of school, two of them were already in what she'd consider _inoperable_ condition, leaving her with the third one which, despite snatches of toilet paper shredded on the floor, hadn't been _clogged_ in the same callous way its sisters had been.

As she turned to close the stall and lock it behind her, she got another one of those _stares_ from her escort. It was vicious. Was she impatient? Or did she just feel this sort of thing was beneath her? She seemed _upset_ by what was going on, but it was equally possible she just had a resting bitch-face.

She closed the stall door to separate herself from that stare. It was time to come up with a plan.

* * *

"Man, that was almost _too_ easy."

Butters found himself growing more and more anxious the further he went with this trio of taller boys. They'd approached the school from the back to avoid the notice of _everyone_ up front- but _why_ were there so many people up front? He'd seen more than just the cars of what had to be loads of parents; there had been police, too. He worried that saying anything would find him on the bad side of his company, however, so not a word passed his lips as they got into the school from the lunch-room loading bay door where the goth kids usually liked to hang out and smoke.

Inside, the school was disturbingly quiet- just like the middle school. And, just like the middle school, Butters found that silence intensely unsettling. Schools weren't _meant_ to be this quiet, even if they were sneaking in through the back of the cafeteria kitchen. Even _there,_ he expected some kind of activity, some kind of _life._

He heard something move inside one of the cabinets, and cried out, quickly moving to be close to the rest of the group.

"Hey, take it easy, _short stuff."_ The tallest boy scolded him. "You'll blow our cover."

 _Something moved over there!_ He wanted to scream, he wanted to point and scream and jump up and down to expend some of this anxious energy pent up in his poor body... instead, he swallowed and nodded, and the taller boys led on; first to the upper floor, which was just as quiet as the rest. Where _was_ everyone? Did _all_ the schools do an evacuation drill today? He knew they were headed for the roof, but he had to pause to peer into at least one of the classrooms.

Doing so, he very much wished he had not.

The classroom he'd spied into had been _trashed_. Desks had been thrown to either side of the room; including up against the door, which obscured his view to a fair degree. The lights were off, and he couldn't see anyone inside at first glance. The teacher's desk appeared to be where it should have been, but there was a splatter on the floor... was that... _blood?_

A flash of movement attracted his eyes back to the teacher's desk. Yes, he was _certain_ he'd seen _something_ move over there. By the time he looked, however? Nothing. He stared a few seconds more, desperately seeking out something in the eerie scene... only to realize that there was an open window in that classroom that hadn't been open before, and a smear of blood on the glass; a small hand print.

"Yo, fraidy cat! You comin' or _what?"_

Getting shouted at shocked Butters away from the view port, away from thinking about what it all meant. The group of boys he was with had located the access door to the roof, and were in no mood to wait on the youngest of their number. "Y-yes, coming! I'm coming!" He quickly assured, though his voice trembled more than he wanted to admit. Something was _wrong_ here; did he _really_ want to go up to the roof with a bunch of boys he didn't know? _Just for Cartman?_ All signs around him were telling him _no, no, no, you do not want to go up there, listen to your instincts and_ _ **run.**_

At the same time, though, there were a trio of taller boys who would likely beat the stuffing out of him if he tried to bail out now. It didn't take Butters long to come to the conclusion that they could all chase him down pretty easily before he found anywhere to hide.

Sensing his reluctance, all three of the taller boys waited for him at the base of the stairwell; one to hold the door, the other two to force him up if he refused their silent invitation to go first. Looking up into the narrow way, the stairs disappeared into black within a few steps... and not for the first time, Butters wished he didn't find himself in these sort of situations so incredibly often.

Compelled from behind, Butters started climbing.

* * *

Kenny took the lead as he and Dee hit the trails to leave Stark's Pond and get back to town. The elementary school wasn't far, but Kenny moved at a light jog anyway. Dee was surprised he could pace himself so well; if she was in front she probably would have been sprinting with her head down. Exhausting, but the adrenaline in her system demanded no less. Putting Kenny in front of her, where he acted as an effective roadblock on the narrow hiking trail back to South Park proper, effectively restrained her from doing the _headstrong_ and _stupid_ thing.

She was really beginning to think he had gotten to know her dangerously well. Or maybe he was just used to taking the lead. She'd try not to think too terribly hard about that.

The pair was brought to a stop when Kenny threw out a hand, signaling for halt as he froze at the edge of the woods. They could see the school from here, but something was _wrong._ A tension in the air, along with police sirens that had grown no quieter as they'd been moving back towards civilization. As Dee arrived behind him, she peered out behind a ruined chain-link fence and a bush having a fight to see that the street in front of the school had been taken over by a number of emergency vehicles. At least four squad cars, gathered around a fire engine that was blockading the walk-up to the school itself. More than that, the street leading up to the school had been pretty much packed solid with... were those all the vehicles of parents? There were a lot of adults standing out by those vehicles, some of them approaching the police. Others just stood half-in and half-out of their cars, and a din of discontented shouting was beginning to build up.

"What the _fuck...?"_ Kenny muttered. "... Cartman didn't make _this_ happen with a couple of balloons... At least, I hope he didn't."

Dee couldn't see _how..._ then again, she had heard stories about _[and personally witnessed]_ Cartman's uncanny ability to cause all hell to break loose with not but his own ability to _work_ people.

"Where the hell is his _mom?"_ Kenny wondered. "She had to have driven him here, so close to the front... unless she parked around the back? Maybe just dropped him off... I don't see her- ah, text from Wendy. She's okay." Kenny's search of the crowd had been interrupted by his phone, backing away from the treeline for now to enjoy their relative separation from the scene beyond. Now he was leaned against a tree that could barely take it, peering at the screen of his iPhone with a deepening frown. "... Wendy thinks that the students in the middle school have been gathered up for quarantine."

Dee, who had taken a seat on the ground, shot a look to Kenny as she negotiated the snow into a vaguely comfortable seat. _What? But they'd only do that..._

" _Someone knows. Someone in charge knows exactly what's going on."_

Sometimes, she didn't know whether he sounded scared or angry when his voice got all intense like that. Maybe it was a little bit of both? He was quiet for several moments, but there was no _absence_ in his presence. He was here, dealing with a problem, exuding his own dangerous energy that was ready to _beat the shit_ out of someone without mercy... all while sitting _very_ quietly. The time passed as if the seconds were _afraid_ to tiptoe by, tripping and pausing and dragging out the sound of police and populace not necessarily understanding one another in the background.

Dee sat up, peering up over her little section of ruined fence and bush. She could wager a few _guesses_ on how to get into the school, but _why?_ Get Cartman? She could think of other people she'd rather risk her ass for... She supposed Kenny's sister was somewhere in there-

 _Oh fuck. Kenny's sister. The one human on this planet that he'd literally do anything to protect. She's in there._

All at once, Dee found herself understanding Kenny's intensity; there had been an element she'd been missing before.

When she looked at Kenny again, his head had popped back up. A deep breath was brought in, and he let it out again. He didn't scream or explode; he just managed his nerves and got back into control.

"I've told her we're going in." He announced, standing up again. "She promised to send back-up when she can."

 _Back-up? Who the **fuck** would wanna back us up right now? _

Bad question, she realized. There were probably _plenty_ of kids who would volunteer right now, when they didn't have half a clue what they were up against. The better question was who would want to back them up right now who would actually be _helpful?_

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

I feel... uncertain about my genre selection for this story. I suck at figuring out what my stories should be filed under- I use elements from all over the place. Suggestions for appropriate filing is welcome, I want people who _want_ to read this sort of story to _find it._ [For point of reference, this story was originally filed as _Humor/Adventure_ because I thought the overall concept of the story was funny enough to call it a comedy. Writing this bracketed note after **finishing** the story, ah... yeah, things got **heavy.]**

Thanks you all for your continued readership.

 _-Buttlord_


	8. Zombies Confirmed

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Zombies Confirmed::**

Dee could not help but feel like they _really_ should have been in costume for this. Kenny should have had his Mysterion get-up at least; the energy he was generating was just about the same as they approached the school from the rear. There was a fence to clear, but a little teamwork made short work of that task, and soon they were on the approach from the playground that they, themselves, had spent so many after-lunch recesses in years previous. Usually this snowy bit of ground represented a reprieve from boring classes or whomever was being particularly _stupid_ that day... but there was something _off._ More than the place being empty, Dee felt rather sincerely that they _didn't belong here_ anymore. A sort of _reverse-nostalgia,_ where she stood upon old ground and knew that lingering there any longer did nothing to serve her.

Ahead, they could see the doors that led into the school, but Kenny had called for a silent halt once again with the rising of a hand that closed into a fist. Without question she stopped, tense and watching him as he took position half-behind a dome-shaped jungle gym that younger kids had been falling off of for at least a decade. She had little in the way of _cover,_ but she huddled a little lower in the dirty and upturned snow that had been fresh this morning and since beaten into the ground by a great number of little feet.

Why did he call for another stop? She began looking around, searching for signs of something out of the ordinary. He must had heard or seen something... _ah, there!_ A flicker of movement, behind a poorly made snowman who had since been vandalized by recess periods later than the creators. The misshapen creature had one giant ball of snow as its bulbous lower body, and a tiny head that suggested that the hands that originally created him might have been in the first-grade class. Said head had been given a yellowed smile by a _creative_ older boy, and random snowballs had been smashed into the snowman's body that made his shape even more irregular. Finally, as either a crown or a helm, someone had upturned a red bucket on the snowman's head, with only his pissed-on smile really showing from beneath.

Something had rattled the red plastic bucket.

The snowman had been built just to the side of their point of ingress, which made ignoring such rattling perilous at best. Kenny was closer to it, but Dee found herself in optimal position to sink back and work her way around to the back of the poor creature and see what was rattling its shiny red helm. _Slowly, quietly,_ she'd done this sort of thing a few more times than she'd care to admit at this point in her life... and she was willing to bet the work-out her heart always got during this shit ensured she was going to live long enough to do it _plenty more times._ That or have a heart attack before her first legal drink- Tweek would be the one to take odds on that one, though knowing him those odds would be quite dismal.

Then again, every time she saw something that made her heart feel as if it had physically moved into her throat, she was willing to call it a fifty-fifty split.

There was a _kid_ behind the snowman... or it used to be? He, she, gender expression got a little irrelevant once a person stopped expressing _person-hood_ , but she was entirely certain that the kid couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. Dressed in a blue parka, her first hint as to something being _terribly off_ was the fact that his spine was crumpled in upon itself like a twisted slinky. Hips jutted forward unevenly while the ribcage hung on a backward curve that only mildly aligned his neck and head into a forward position in the most extreme imitation of the Quasimodo _hump_ she had ever seen in the real world. Arms hung limply, with the left one clearly broken. A bone from his forearm winked at her from where it had stabbed through the boy's parka, but there was no _red_ blooming out from it. The wound was wet, to be certain, but surrounded by a black substance that reminded her more of _pond scum_ than bodily fluid.

With his twisted back, the kid still had a surprisingly articulated head. His neck turned, but when it did it was with the grinding of _bone on bone_ that Dee could hear, even from where she crouched a few feet away. When he looked at her, she saw a face that had gone pale, and the glassy eyes of the recently _dead._ In terrible marionette, juddering and unpracticed, the kid's feet shuffled to better look at Dee. His mouth lolled open, a dull exhalation of air getting little in the way of vocal definition, but letting out a long and low _noise_ all the same. A sort of moan, she supposed; like a breeze of air moving through a long-abounded house.

Dribbling from his lips and teeth was more black, but the substance leaking from his face was quite a bit _thicker._ It _oozed_ from the lax orifice.

The child-creature let out a _screech-_ unearthly, horrible, the sort that grasped at the base of the spine and made parents capitulate in the middle of busy shopping malls. The sort of squall that _only_ a child could produce, but with a horrifying _monster_ joining in to make a harmony that was as pleasurable as nails on a chalkboard. The jaw stretched open, and a bubble of black ooze formed within the thing's mouth that inflated with the scream before _popping_ and scattering droplets of the disgusting substance all around him. An instant later, the thing threw itself into motion; hobbling and shuddering, but _walking_ all the same.

The moment it came out from behind the snowman, Kenny was on top of it. Mysterion costume or no, he had the moves- and _zero_ hesitation after he heard that sound and no doubt saw the look of befuddled _horror_ on Dee's face. He'd come in with a flying kick to the head that quickly knocked the thing into the snow with a terrible _crackling_ of too many pieces of a spine all grinding on surfaces that didn't have cartilage to protect form friction. The boy's back mostly straightened upon landing, but his hips remained _grossly_ misaligned with a twist that kept his legs kicking off to the left while Kenny kept him down with a foot on his chest.

The broken arm didn't join in the fray, but the right arm tried to- reaching up and clawing at Kenny's shoe and pants, but failing to make much headway. Its head twisted downwards, blindly biting and crying out when it was unable to. More bubbles formed into a black foam that continuously spewed from its chomping, squealing mouth.

"... I think it's safe to use the _zombie_ word, now." Dee muttered, joining Kenny in looking down at the thing.

"Agreed... but what do we do with this one?" He asked. _Kill it_ was the obvious answer, but the thing glaring up at them with its dead and determined gaze _had been a person this morning._

 _Goddamnit, this shit never gets any easier._

Dee only took a second to square up on the child-beast's head with her heel. She wore heavy boots every day and, oddly enough, this would not be the first time she considered applying deadly force to kicking something that was already down in the snow. Her calculation for the action was quite simple; she didn't see any way out of this situation that didn't involve some extra- smelly time travel. This kid would be _not dead_ when this was all over because, ideally, they were going to find out how this all started and make sure he never ended up a zombie in the first place... and killing this little hellion ensured he wouldn't be coming back for more, later, at an inconvenient time.

"Whoa, wait, Dee- _are you sure?"_

She couldn't look at him. It was the wrong head space. _Empathy was her enemy in this moment._

The sound was not unlike that of a watermelon being bashed open in a similar manner. Or a pumpkin, she supposed. The amount of force required was not dissimiliar, either. She did her best not to _look._ Not at Kenny, not at what used to be a kid; she looked up. Up at the gray sky that was still dropping the occasional snowflake on them as she lifted her knee and powered her heel down into the round object below it. Once, twice, _crack goes the outer shell,_ thrice, _oh that was warmer than I expected, ew,_ four times, _just for good measure._

It stopped making noises.

"I'll undo it." She promised. It was not flippant- rather a grave responsibility she charged herself with.

 _Still not as bad as ripping my mother's arm off. Seriously, that was bullshit._

"... let's get moving." Was all Kenny could think to say.

* * *

"Hey, kid, you alive in there?"

Not for the first time, Wendy was reminded that she was in a quiet sort of peril that took the form of a looming authority figure who could, at any moment, realize the game she was playing and burst in to take her phone away from her- _but she was just starting to get a handle on this!_ It was an extreme measure she was taking, but if she did it _right_ she would cause a big enough distraction for her and her peers to get away from this shady shit.

"A-almost, it... _it..."_

What could she say?

"What, did your first period show up?" The serious woman who had escorted her in her quested casually.

 _What?! Wait..._

"Y-yeah, actually... I... I don't know what to do..."

" _God fuck it sideways,_ I told _them this..."_ Her voice grew incoherent as she grumbled and cursed under her breath, leaving Wendy with only an impression that she was grumpy and pissed off at circumstances outside of her control. _"... stupid bullshit plan... gotta test it on monkeys, first... good fucking cheesing christ..._ Okay, kiddo, how bad is the bleeding?"

"Uuuuh..." Wendy had to think fast; what was going to maximize her time alone with her phone? Or, better yet, _what could give her a chance of slipping away?_ "It's... _really_ bad."

"Did your underwear get ruined?"

" _Excuse me?!"_

Seriously, the questions some people asked.

"Did you bleed all over your stupid fuckin' big girl pants- answer the stupid question, kid!"

" _FINE! YES I DID AND I'M EMBARASSED!"_

Was it too early for crocodile tears? No, no, never too early for those. Wendy had gone whole hog into this act, and a little crying certainly didn't hurt if she was going for the confused and afraid girl who didn't understand what the flying fuck her body was doing on top of having a weird-ass day at school.

" _Hey, look, progress."_ The sarcasm from the serious lady outside was _palpable._ "Huh, let's see... um... oh, right, the nurse's office sometimes keeps extra clothes for students, right? Okay kid, hang tight, I'm going to go get you some girl things. I'll be back with some clean stuff before you know it."

 _Really?_ Wendy almost couldn't believe it at first, 'sobbing' into her hands for the effect as she marveled at her good luck. Either her target was particularly gullible, or she'd gotten _much_ better at acting in a short time. Maybe she'd found her calling? " _O... okay..."_ She agreed, doing her best to sound scared and reluctant to be alone. If this worked, she would be all but home free! As far as she knew, there were not guards on the outsides of the locker rooms; she could wait until the serious lady was gone and then slip out herself. The front office would be the best place to access a computer with all the permissions, and then she could just slip out the door and be _gone_ when all hell broke loose.

" _Hey, what the hell are you idiots doing- oh my **god-!"**_

Then again, that was already happening to a certain degree, due to a little meddling. She already had plans to spring herself, after all, before her lucky break with the serious lady. Shouting was coming from the other locker room- just on the other side of the shared wet wall for their bathroom facilities. Assuming all parties had acted as she'd instructed over various social media, texting, and e-mails from a _number_ of different accounts, that locker room was now quite _flooded._ Originally, that had been meant as a distraction for the guard outside, and Wendy had just intended to _deal with_ the serious lady and steal her phone... but this path gave her more time before she was discovered, she hoped.

She fired off a quick text, and got up off the toilet to leave the bathroom stall. Stepping out into the doorway between the locker room proper and the showers, she took a moment to stretch out her shoulders from the hunched-over posture she'd taken while hiding.

Just as she was finishing, the door to the locker room from the gym opened. It closed just as quickly from someone leaning on it; someone who wanted no one to notice they'd slipped in here, mainly because it was a place he generally did not belong.

"Okay, I'm just saying, this is still _super weird."_

"And you also said you wanted to help, so grab a straw and _suck it up,_ Stan." Wendy instructed him without looking at him at first. No, no, she knew she could be cooler than that. Wait for it, wait for it, _now look at him and smirk._ She swore, she could see the confused emotions bouncing about his brain like bouncy balls fired from a pitching machine into a fishbowl. "C'mon, let's move, we've got shit to do."

"Oh you _cannot pull that shit on me right now-"_ Stan's voice lowered as he was told to follow, Wendy leading the way to the other door for the girl's locker room- the one that would lead out into the hall. "When I said I wanted to _help,_ that was with your _project, after school._ You _cannot_ twist that into wanting to help with... with... what are we even doing?"

"Saving the student body from shady government machinations, possibly zombies." Wendy responded in a rather matter-of-fact manner as she very carefully pushed open the door just enough to peer outside and check for any sort of guard in the hallway. "And if you _didn't_ want to help, you could have said no when I texted you."

"I'm not _good_ at that!" Stan complained before it entirely sunk in what she'd explained the situation as. "... wait, _possibly_ zombies?"

" _Mmmhmmm."_ She hummed an affirmative as she confirmed the hallway was clear. Standing straight, she reached for her phone to make one last check for updates before getting a move on- to find a message from Kenny. It had a photo attached.

Oh, _that_ was unpleasant.

"Scratch that, zombies confirmed." She added, showing Stan over her shoulder. She didn't want to _look_ at that picture for longer than she had to- looked like it had been a kid before someone had kicked its skull in. "That's over at the elementary school."

"Oh my- _hurk-"_ Stan gagged, pushing Wendy's phone away and choosing not to look. "... and what... what did I _volunteer_ for?"

 _That_ question got Wendy to flash him another smirk, this one even more mischievous than the last.

"We're gonna blow up the school."

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

Well hello, Wendy, you were much more bad-ass than I originally planned you to be. Then again, I also originally planned this story to be excessively silly... but we've all but proven I'm not entirely _capable_ of going whole-hog silly.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	9. Zombie Rules

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Zombie Rules::**

"Sorry, Wendy..."

Kenny _knew_ the picture was... _excessive,_ but he couldn't think of a faster way to convey the information than to take a photo and send it to her... and Dee hadn't exactly waited for him to snap one _before_ stomping its skull in.

"That black shit looks a lot like what we've been vomiting." Dee observed flatly. To be entirely frank, Kenny was still getting used to hearing her voice; it wasn't the voice he'd _imagined_ for Dee. Then again, those imaginings had always assumed Dee was a dude, and given that idea of Dee more masculine leanings. Not to put too fine a point on it, but finding out there were _boobs_ under that bulky sweater had kicked his perception of his friend in the head just a _tiny_ bit, but today already had enough shit in it that there was no time to sit down and _process._

He supposed he did have the guarantee that he would get that time _eventually,_ there was just no promise that Dee would _also_ be alive to discuss it with him. Undeath was no escape from death for him; as soon as he was _properly_ terminated, it would happen the way it _always_ happened, where he just woke up the next day in his bed and continued on with his eternal self-sabotaging but utterly impossible to end existence... and contend with the idea that maybe he should be _lashing out_ at the world that kept forgetting he had died, rather than trying to keep anyone in it safe. More than once, in the almost _Groundhog's Day_ style his life tended to reboot every time he suffered something his mortal flesh of that day could not take, he'd spent extended periods pacing up and down his room and wondering why he didn't just start spreading anarchy instead of trying to help people. What was the _point?_ South Park seemed so _hell bent_ on falling apart every other week, why the hell did he throw his utterly disposable person under every incoming crisis?

He'd burned to death. He'd lived as a zombie and been chainsawed in half. He'd been impaled, electrocuted, suffocated- and he remembered each death with the haunting clarity. He would lay in bed, turning over the latest episode, questioning the constant _reset_ and the _purpose_ of it all.

Then he'd get up, share a pop-tart with his little sister... and he'd feel better. Sad, but better.

If _they_ had done _this_ to her- whomever _'they'_ were, he was going to rip them apart with his bare hands. He was going to do things to them that would make fucking _Buttlord_ cover her eyes and turn away.

"I'd noticed." He finally answered, coming back to what Dee had said. "I don't like it." He added, turning towards the doors. "Someone at the middle school went _bad_ enough that they called a quarantine, and this..." He paused on going _into_ the elementary school just yet. They didn't know what they were going to find in there; more kids who had gone full zombie, or more sick kids who... were what? Possible sleeper agents? In the process of turning? _What turned them?_ What was the rule between _infected_ and _not_ when there was no evidence of a patient zero? He'd checked that little kid as thoroughly as he could stomach; he hadn't seen anything that looked like a _bite. Something_ had started this, but they hadn't yet found evidence as to _what_ it was... just a possibly premature conclusion that it had something to do with the schools themselves.

What about the students? What was the common thread _there?_

"Can you check the kid's coat?" He asked Dee. He wasn't sure he could look again without thinking about Karen. What if she was infected? What if she was hiding somewhere, right now, because she was scared and alone? Just _thinking_ about that sent a kick of adrenaline through his system that was desperate to bust down the doors and _fucking find her. Find her, keep her safe..._ and hopefully not have to explain why he and Mysterion sounded a lot alike when they were mad.

"What for?" Dee quested with arched brows. The wind was picking up, carrying flakes of snow across the world rather than straight down. Her curly hair had gone with it- the rules at the middle school meant she'd run out without her favorite black hat that she usually tucked the mess of dyed red fluff under.

"Sometimes parents write names inside their kid's coats and stuff, keep 'em from getting mixed up with other people's stuff or... identify the kid if they get lost. There's usually a patch or something on the inside of the jacket. Wendy can check out who he was, maybe start picking up some common threads on who's sick and who isn't."

"... got it."

 _Concern._ Dee could see he was not doing 'well' with this- if _anyone_ could do well with this sort of shit. He was pretty sure most people drew the line at splattering child brains with their boots. He didn't look as he heard her crunch back through the snow to the dead child by the snowman, a zipper coming down and the shifting of fabric signaling that she'd done as he'd asked.

"Caleb Moose." Dee reported. "Sending a photo to Wendy."

"We should move carefully once we're inside." Kenny turned his attention forward, to the job at hand. "Zombie rules- don't get cornered, no unnecessary noise, stick together as much as possible, and no trying to save people who are already dead. If there's anyone alive inside, we either secure them or help them get to safety- _then_ get Cartman and his stupid posse off the roof." When he looked back, Dee was right behind him. _Ready to go_ was the look on her face; he'd seen it many times. She didn't have to say anything for him to know what she meant.

"Keep an eye out for a hair binder." She added just before he pushed the door open. "This shit is a _mess."_

* * *

"We're gonna _what?!"_

"Oh my _God_ Stan, keep it down- you're gonna get us caught."

"Oh, I'm sorry, _someone just told me she's gonna blow up the school!"_

" _It's for a good cause!"_

Because _bickering_ was the best way to work through the hallways between themselves and the main office. Wendy had not waited for Stan to get over the shock of what she'd told him; she had already set parts of her plan into motion, and she was _not_ going to squander the window she'd won by getting that serious lady to go off and find period stuff for her. That said, going through the hallways would all but _make sure_ that they would run into said serious lady as she was on her way back from the nurse's office, which was adjacent to the main offices of the school. With some quick calculation, she decided the best path would be to go through the library; there were multiple entrances and exits, as well as windows back into the halls of the school where they could peek at whether the coast was clear before committing.

"C'mon, this way." She told Stan before there could be any argument, taking the lead as well as his hand.

 _Christ_ his palm was sweaty; was he _that_ scared?

Better question, why was she not _more_ scared? Hanging out with Dee and Kenny must have been making her jaded.

"Wha- okay, okay, I'm coming." He had to be tugged along at first, but tripped along with her as they passed through the double-doors into the student library and ducked down low once inside. The room was set up with windows facing out towards the parking lot, with tables and chairs and computers for study closer to the outdoor windows and rows of shelving starting further away and lining the walls. Wendy stopped for a second, tight against the front counter where kids would check out or return their books, listening for movement. When she heard none, she proceeded forward in a low crouch that hugged the walls that connected back into the school- the trouble with the hall-facing windows was that if they didn't remember to stay down, someone might see _them_ from the hall, and that would just ruin everything.

"Keep your head low." She reminded Stan as he rose up a little, curiously peering around.

" _Shit-_ sorry." Down he ducked as Wendy led the way to the other major entrance to the library which would, assuming it was clear, get them very close to the main offices. "So... what's the plan?"

"The plan is I'm going to get to a computer in the main office and access the heating system; the school has boilers under it for heating that are automated. If I monkey with the set safeties on the program that tells the boilers how hot to get, I can get one of them to _burst_ with the built up heat and pressure."

"Can't you just use one of the computers _here?"_

"I _could,_ but these are student computers; getting any of them to let me touch anything _important_ would waste time... plus the front office is also our escape route. Once I've set the _boiler-bomb,_ we're running."

"Won't that be... y'know, dangerous for everyone else? _Where_ under the school is it?"

"Not sure. They didn't give us _blueprints_ at orientation, Stan. My only _guess_ is that I saw a utility closet off of the cafeteria, near the entrance from the bus parking lot. Educated guess says that door goes down to the boiler room." They were getting closer to the other door, but she signaled a stop and tucked in tight to the wall; she could see the serious lady coming back through the windows, looking even more peeved than before. Why was she so _angry?_

For a moment, both she and Stan held their respective breath. It wasn't until she was past them that they began to move; sans conversation. Wendy's movements were impatient, eager to get where they were going. Once they arrived at the door she peered both ways and nodded- _time to move._

Scampering out of the library, Wendy only paused long enough to get the door to shut _quietly._ She ended up pinching her fingers a little bit, using the tips to ease the door back into place as softly as she could. It still hit with a solid _click_ of the latch going back into place, but it was better than a loud _thud_ that would have brought anyone within ear shot to possibly investigate. From there, it was on to the offices; but the doorway into the nurse's office had to be crossed first.

Wendy turned her head back to Stan; he was right behind her, looking cagey and unsure. _Anxious._ She pressed a finger to her lips, reinforcing that _silence_ was the correct approach at the moment before creeping up to the open doorway that stood between them and their goal. She had to make sure no one was in there before they just ran across. She didn't _hear_ anyone moving around in there, but that was no promise that they were alone. Stepping carefully, she got close enough to the edge to peek around it.

What she saw made her gasp sharply.

" _What?"_ Stan asked in a stage whisper.

Wendy retreated from the doorway, putting her back to the wall and covering her mouth. _Keep quiet, keep quiet, don't scream-_

" _Oh my God."_

Stan moved to get past her, to look, but she quickly reached out and grabbed him. _No,_ he didn't need to see that. _She_ didn't need to see that, but she had. She might have _assumed_ as much, but proof was always much harder to see, much harder to swallow.

Bebe had been in the nurse's office. Students had been told that she was being looked after while they waited for the ambulance to come pick her up; several people had seen the nurse with her as they took her to lay down and wait. Now? It appeared there had been some kind of struggle in the nurse's office; papers scattered and Ms. Merryweather's desk upturned. And, in the middle of all the chaos had been Bebe and Ms. Merryweather.

They both had holes in their skulls. They were both quite dead.

 _Had the serious lady done this?_

"Let's move." Wendy urged, trying to get her head back together. If she thought about it for too long, she might have just crumpled into a ball and started crying. That was her _friend_ in there, but she couldn't bare to look again. Time wasted right now was more time for the kids in the gym to end up loaded onto buses bound for _who knew where?_ This wasn't the time to get emotional, this was the time to get shit done.

Grabbing Stan's hand, she yanked on him and then shoved him ahead of her so he wouldn't get a chance to look into the doorway.

Behind him, she couldn't help glancing in again. The image had not changed. A second look only allowed more details to trickle through; the fact that Bebe's eyes were still open, glassy, staring out at nothing with a gaping mouth that leaked some sort of strange black substance. Ms. Merryweather, crumpled beside her, the pair of them laying in a mingling pool of black and red.

Eyes were torn away. A heavy weight felt as if it were clinging to Wendy's ankles, but she couldn't give into it. _She had a plan, she needed to stick to it. Other people were depending on her._

 _I can cry later._ She told herself. _I can cry and scream and second guess everything later._

"W-Wendy, hang on-" Stan was trying to fight her as she shoved him past the doorway. It was enough that she got sick of it- she let go and moved around him to continue on to the main office. If he was going to be difficult, _fine._

" _Wendy, no!"_

The pair of them came around the corner, into the hall full of bulletin boards that led up to the main offices and the entrance parents used when coming to pick up their kids for whatever reason. Standing in relative cover, Stan had grabbed her by the shoulder and held onto her tightly, refusing to let her keep moving.

"... what was in there?"

His question was innocent, but his tone knew full well how badly what she'd seen had hit her. He knew her, knew how she reacted to things.

She couldn't hold it. She was going to cry. Her _friend, she was..._

" _Bebe's dead."_ She reported. "... the nurse, too."

That was as far as she got. She wanted to say they didn't have _time_ to pay attention to that, but her voice choked up and the tears came anyway. What had even been _wrong_ with Bebe? The black shit coming out of her mouth, it looked like... _oh god the zombie child photo Kenny had sent her-!_ They had proof, _Summer was infected, and she spread it to Bebe through a bite!_

For some reason, that made her cry harder. She sobbed; ugly, wheezing, terrible sobs that were desperate to stay _quiet_ as it all got to be just too much.

Stan still had a hand on her. Still held her by the shoulder. The next she knew, he'd slipped the rest of his arm around her, ferrying her further towards their goal. It seemed he had nothing to say, but maybe there just weren't any words that would be of any help? They both felt the ticking clock, both knew they only had so long... and she found herself surprised that he managed to be the firm guiding hand when shit was closing in around them.

She supposed she kept him around for _some_ reason.

Sniffing, wiping her face, she tried to get it back together as they approached the front desk. Lucky for her, there was a tissue box on said desk, covered in colorful and playful kittens. She grabbed a couple as they got close, and finally shrugged off Stan's support as she got her shit back together. She couldn't save Bebe, Bebe had been fucked the moment she'd been bitten. Wendy needed to focus on the living, and maximizing their chances of _getting the hell away_ from being stuffed into cages like rats. With a decidedly wet gaze, she looked back to Stan and gave him an affirming nod; she could handle this.

For the moment, anyhow.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked, no longer argumentative. There was no more bickering, no more questioning her plan.

"Keep watch." She told him, a little tremor still in her voice as she took a seat at the secretary's computer. "If anyone comes, we'll hide until they leave."

Simple instructions for a simple job. Stan was doing something that could have been done by _anyone_ with eyes. She'd chosen him because she _trusted_ him not to run, despite the glass doors to the outside being so close and beckoning. She trusted his loyalty to her.

"Meanwhile... I'll set a bomb."

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

Okay, I admit it, we've gone full horror story. My habit towards _describing_ things made quick work of _that_ one.

My cat is still missing. I am losing hope. We've put out a live trap where we lost him with his food and his blanket, and there's been no luck so far. I am also sick, so I can't just go sit out there and wait for him. I go between telling myself cats are a dime a dozen to crying because that cat wasn't just _any_ cat, he was _my_ cat.

The writing is helping to pass the time while I wait for news. Thank you all for your continued support.

 _-Buttlord_


	10. Death is Calling

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Death is Calling::**

Butters was the first to arrive at the door to the roof. He didn't _want_ to open it, but knew he'd be attacked if he didn't. Shaking hands pushed the door bar, and he nearly felt _relief_ when the door didn't give. "H-hey- uh... f-fellas? I think it's _locked."_

"Locked?" One of the guys behind him scoffed, stepping up and making a show of pulling out a set of keys he most _certainly_ should not have had in his possession. "Watch this, Mr. _Good Guy._ My dad's the _janitor,_ I've got keys for everything in the school district. All the service doors lock automatically, so no one gets up without a key."

One of his cohorts, still behind Butters, let out a grunting pig-like laugh. "Yeah, how do you think we got the _other_ door open? _Seriously."_

"Oh _hamburgers,_ you mean we're breaking in? O-Or... _out,_ I guess... because... the roof is... well, _outside?"_

"We're being _boys."_ The head honcho announced with a victorious grin as the door popped open. "And as they say, _boys will be boys._ You coming, Mr. Good Guy?"

"Of _course_ he's coming."

Butters found himself being pushed, almost picked up and lifted, the rest of the way up the stairs. Briefly he wondered where Eric got a key to get up to the roof, but he supposed that wasn't his place to question. Eric had his ways to get _lots_ of things. "F-Fellas- W-wait, _fellas!"_ He began to wiggle around, struggling as he realized he'd rather fall down the stairs than go through with this. Hands kept grabbing him, trying to force him up and through the open portal with its blinding light after the absolute dark of the stairwell, and he kept wriggling like a worm that desperately wanted off the hook. "I _really_ don't think we should be d-doing this- just- _just lemme down!"_

All at once, Butters began to flail. With fists closed he swung his arms and kicked his legs while his weight completely left the stairs, born on the shoulders of those who wanted to force him _up._ He screwed his eyes shut, squirming about and turning downwards with his own sense of gravity. He felt his foot connect with something- was that someone's head? "S- _Sorry!"_ He shouted, all while blind hands reached for the railing to the stairs- _anything_ that would let him grab hold and pull himself down and away.

There was a scream. The door swung most of the way closed, thudding and only letting in a sliver of light. Without light, movement stopped. Butters found himself suddenly _dropped_ onto the stairs and rolled down a few steps before he managed to get his limbs back underneath himself. "W- _Whoa- that's..._ oh, little dizzy..." He muttered, holding his head with one hand before looking up to see what had happened.

In the dim lighting, it was hard to tell what was going on. The tallest kid in the group appeared to have... gone to the other side of the door? But something had also wedged it open just a crack, so it hadn't closed all the way and locked itself again. His two friends were just shapes against the narrow band of light, looking to one another before approaching the cracked door.

There was another sound. Another _scream,_ but this one was different. It sounded tortured, like an animal stuck in a trap... or maybe like _drowning,_ because the sound _gurgled._ Butters didn't like it, so he covered his ears while taking the opportunity to _very slowly_ descend the stairs... but he couldn't stop watching. What had happened to the tallest boy? Why had he screamed? _Was that his voice?_

One of the other boys had made it to the top; the one who had laughed at Butters. Gingerly, he pressed on the door bar to ease it open once again, and the band of light widened into a bright white square against the pitch black of the service stairs. From his low vantage point, Butters could just barely see that the object that had wedged the door was the tall boy's foot. He didn't move when the door opened.

"Holy _fuck,_ man... Zach? Zach, are you okay?" As the first cohort took a step past the threshold, his friend was stepping up as well. "Dude- _what the hell?"_

Butters had reached the bottom of the stairs, and reached blindly for the push-bar. His hand couldn't find it, but he could bring himself to look away from what was happening at the top of the steps. Panic rose up as a desperate mixture of _need to flee_ and _desire to know what was going on,_ delaying any sort of safety with the terrible curiosity of _what was happening on the roof._

"What the _fuck?"_ The other guy had joined the first at the top of the steps.

Then the screaming started again. It was louder, more brutal, like nails digging into his eardrums, but Butters could not abandon his search for the door handle. In fact, that horrible sound was what got him to _look away_ and properly search for it so he could _run._ Run away from that horrible interbred combination of a drowning, dying, suffering creature mixed with a pricing steam whistle.

Even turned around, Butters somehow managed to fumble the door. Tremors ran through him and made him clumsy as he pushed on the door bar and the heavy portal _did not move._ What had been relief at the top of the stairs turned into blind _terror_ at the bottom of the stairs- _Don't tell me it's locked from this side, too?!_ Screamed alarm bells in his head.

"Oh _fuck this-_ I am _out!"_

A hard thud- Butters looked back just in time to see a third figure appear in the square of light up above. It wasn't the leader of the group; he was a tall, skinny guy. The shape at the top of the stairs was of someone of a decidedly _heavier_ build, who promptly crashed into the boy holding the door open. All at once, the light from the top of the stairs was gone, and a great crash sounded in the dark. He could hear it; bodies thudding down one, two, three steps before there was a wet _ripping_ sound and a sharp yelp of pain.

" _What the- fucking- fuck off!"_

A shout from the dark, more banging of limbs; both against the stairs and against bodies. The sound of a _sharp_ impact, like an elbow into a forehead, before fingernails skittered on the step and drug a body out of the fray.

Butters felt a drop of something hit his forehead. It was warm.

"SHIT!"

The sound was that of several smaller impacts all building up to a single hard _crack!_ As a body met the stairs from ankles to head, as if something had grasped their feet and the rest of them pitched over like a falling tree. The last sound was that of a skull striking the edge of a step not far from where Butter's listened to it all, briefly shocked into a standstill and praying that whatever it was that had joined them in the dark from the roof did not notice him quivering maddening inches away from escape.

 _Silence._ Silence like the empty void of space, but without the majestic glitter of stars that brought mystical beauty to the terror of the unknown. In this blackness, all Butters could register was his own heart beat in his ears. He wanted to call out, to ask ' _Hello?'_ to the inky black, but would he be pleased with what answered him back?

 _Wet breathing._ Just a few feet away, he could hear it. _Wheezing_ intakes that bubbled and popped like a tar swamp. It was _there,_ maybe within arm's reach? Or was he over-thinking the distance without the ability to _see_ what it was that stood in this space with him? Maybe it was further? Or _closer?_ Either was possible, but neither gave him any assurance he would escape. Hands remained on the door, but feared trying to push on it again for the _noise_ it would make.

" _... what the **fuck...?"**_

A dazed voice from above; one of the boys was still close to the top of the stairs, letting out a pained groan as he slid his body on the step. A hand slapped against the railing, seeking stability.

The thing that was _breathing_ let out another howling scream that felt as if it might resonate with Butter's fragile skull and make it shatter like a fine crystal glass did for an opera singer's carefully refined voice. It was right next to him! Did he yelp? Cry out and flinch? He didn't know, the sound was so overwhelming it was hard to be aware of anything else. His thoughts were drowned out, along with the feeling of the door beneath his hands and the air within his lungs that might have been expelled out into a fearful squall of his own.

All of that evaporated as he turned his head forward, and threw his weight against the door.

* * *

Dee found something inherently _wrong_ with empty schools. It was an eerie, almost _surreal_ feeling to walk through a place that she _only_ knew to bustle with people every time she was there. To see it empty was to see it _wrong;_ a corpse with all the blood drained from its veins and organs, with only a scaffold left behind for the animated life it represented... instead replaced by a creeping _dread._

That said, it was good to get out of the snow and wind. The flakes were beginning to come down thicker as she and Kenny stepped inside, and he very quickly took point as they made their way to where they _assumed_ the school population would hole up; the gymnasium. It was where Wendy and the other students had been told to go in the middle school; so it made it the most logical place to start looking for survivors... not to mention _answers,_ here in the elementary school.

They had barely made it a few steps down the first hall before a horrible _screech_ rang through the building. Where it came from was _anyone's_ guess, empty hallways echoing and distorting a noise that came from a distance to begin with. It _rang_ off of metal lockers, rattled gates that could be closed to cordon off sections of the building, and made Dee desperately want to grasp her ears and cover them from the abrasive quality of the sound.

Somewhere within her, a counter argument was made- _she wanted to scream back._ She didn't understand it, and shook it off with the last flakes of snow that were clinging to her shoulders.

 _Answering squalls_ came from near-by; higher pitched, _juvenile-_ Dee realized as a heavy weight settled in the bottom of her stomach. Whatever had called out first, it wasn't a _child_ like what they'd had to deal with on the playground. Could it have been an adult? Had a teacher been infected? The only reason the thing outside had been easy to deal with was _because_ it was a child; an undead monster made from a vulnerable and immature human. Infected persons who were fully grown would be an entirely different matter that she'd rather _avoid_ if entirely possible.

 _Good christ_ she hoped they didn't run into Mr. Mackey. Alive, dead, _undead,_ she just didn't need that right now.

"... sounds like there's more of them." Kenny murmured; the answering devil chorus defied counting in the same way the first voice bucked location; the way that sound traveled around the hallways just made it impossible to define the exact number of horrible cries echoed the first. Five? Ten? Twenty? Each was ear-splitting, and melded into the other calls. "... enough to get swarmed."

 _Oh, that's a great thought. Thank you Kenny for reminding us what the number one danger of a zombie Apocalypse is. A plus._

Sarcastic thoughts aside, he was _right._ When he looked back, she nodded her affirmation; she understood what they were walking into, and encouraged him to lead the way anyway. They gym wasn't far; with any luck they'd make it there without incident.

* * *

" _That's it?"_

Wendy nodded a little. "That's it. Just disable the emergency release valve, set the kick-over temperature to max, and then trick the system into thinking it's below zero inside the school. I've basically told a single boiler it needs to _melt a glacier,_ and turned all the safeties off."

Something told Stan it probably wasn't quite _that_ easy, but he was too tense to argue with her right now. She was still seated behind the main secretary's desk, and he was up by the hallway to peer around the corner and see if anyone was coming their way. So far they had been left alone, though there had been more than a little _shouting_ echoing through the hallways. No doubt the serious lady Wendy texted him about before they united and got on their way had found out she'd been tricked by now, and was leading the search to find her.

"How long will it take?" Seemed a much better question; much more pragmatic.

"Not sure, I've never done this before." Wendy answered. "I'm keeping an eye on it- there's a key for critical temperature, so when it starts getting close, we'll get going."

"W-wait- but, I thought you said we'd _go_ once you'd-"

"I _did,_ but Kenny needs information and I don't know when I'm going to get another chance with a decent internet connection."

Stan glanced back to see Wendy had gotten online since the last time he'd looked, and her fingers were flying furiously over the keyboard. All she needed was a super-sized cup of coffee and she'd look like a hardcore college student, or a hacker electronically robbing a bank. Either way, it was a _striking_ affectation that took over with wide eyes and an absent sweep of loose hairs away from her face as she took to her task with gusto.

Somewhere far away, someone _screamed._

"... what was _that?"_ Stan asked, head whipping away from his admiration of Wendy and back towards the hallway.

"I... _don't know..."_ Wendy responded slowly. The tapping of keys had taken a pause, but it was brief. "But I don't like it."

He didn't like it either. The sound was _terrible,_ not _unlike_ a human scream of pain and anguish, but also not _like_ it, either. Related, but _different,_ producing two different notes that both tore at the eardrums. One that his mind recognized as a human in trouble, as a sound to run _towards_ to see what was wrong, to see what he could do to _help,_ but the other? The other was _sharp,_ a _needle_ that pushed into his brain through his ears and sang off-key to it's companion in a way that made his molars hurt.

Actually, now that he analyzed it... it didn't sound _that_ far away.

"... _oh."_

"Oh?" Stan asked without looking away from the hall. He couldn't stand to, now. What the _fuck_ had made that noise? Not for the first time, he'd found the glass doors to the outside intensely tempting. The chance to just _run,_ take the nearest bus back to town and go home to hide in his attic was one he was aware of, but resisted. Wendy needed him here; he wouldn't run until they could go together. "What's 'Oh?'"

" _Oh_ is I think... _I think I know what the common thread is._ Just lemme... yep, there's the nurse's records, _and..."_

There was another scream. Similar to the first, but it had a different _pitch._ The first had been higher- Stan would have almost said _feminine_ if one could assign sex to the sound of torture. This one was lower, more _grating_ than _shrill,_ and sounded further away than the first.

"Wendy?" Stan couldn't help a _little_ tension entering into his voice as he held his ground. He felt as if a nightmare might come around the corner at any moment, making him swallow hard and clench his fists as adrenaline pumped through his system and left his body a tingly mass of _needing to react._

"Almost done!" She promised. "I just have to... _ugh_ hacking medical records is such a _pain-"_

He didn't know. He wasn't sure he needed to know. A third voice had joined the chorus; almost like a pack of wolves answering each other; each with their own distinct howl.

Worse, the third voice was the closet to them yet. It sounded as if it could have been just up the way, near the classrooms or the bathroom. Stan swore the voice vibrated through his bones in the worst possible way.

And then he heard steps. They were shuffling, _squeaking-_ the way tennis shoes squeaked on waxed floors when they were wet and pressed against the surface just the right way. Usually he associated that sound with being obnoxious at the grocery store; squeaking his shoes just for the loud and annoying sound it made by turning his feet as he walked and grinning when his family glared at him- or, the excessively rare occasions where his sister joined in to try and out-squeak him to remind him who was boss. Despite the somewhat nostalgic memory, as she had been 'too cool for that' for _years,_ that sound took on an entirely different feeling at this moment.

In this moment, each sound was a pluck at what little sanity and perseverance Stan had left as he found himself with nothing to do but stare down the hall with wide eyes.

"... _Wendy?"_

He whispered. He feared being heard.

"Done!" She declared, standing up from the computer. "Get to the door, Stan, and get ready to run."

"I am _more_ than ready." He promised as he quickly dashed over to the glass doors, grasping the handles and looking back to find Wendy had not yet come around the desk to join him. Instead, she had stepped over to... was that the microphone for the intercom?

" _Good afternoon South Park Middle School! This is an extra special announcement to let you know that the school gymnasium and bus parking lot are going to suffer from extreme structural collapse within the next few minutes- you may want to evacuate to a different area. Toodles!"_

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

You guys are wonderful. Thank you so much for all of your support- both for my missing kitty [his name is Cerberus, by the way], and for the story. We are remaining hopeful and doing everything we can to bring the dear kitty home again, and in the meantime I am having a wonderful time writing this story.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	11. The Link

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - The Link::**

" _Good afternoon South Park Middle School! This is an extra special announcement to let you know that the school gymnasium and bus parking lot are going to suffer from extreme structural collapse within the next few minutes- you may want to evacuate to a different area. Toodles!"_

Today was _not_ a good day. In fact, it might have been the _polar opposite_ of a good day for Dr. Kartwright. First her work was forced into human testing before it was ready, _side effects_ surfaced before the first goddamned day, a _little fucking girl tricked her_ into leaving her unattended, some idiot boys had flooded one of the locker rooms and distracted the police team long enough to slip out the side-door to the athletic fields, _she_ had to shoot a nosy nurse _and_ a possible research subject, a _disturbing_ number of students insisted their parents were coming to pick them up- and to top it all off, no less than _three_ monstrosities were about to be on the loose if that announcement wasn't just an elaborate _bluff._

Even with all that said, this wasn't the location that _needed_ her attention. Contact had been lost with the elementary school; police lost control when the parents began to riot, and the last she'd heard from _anyone_ was that there had been more people _suffering side-effects_ on the roof.

"Announcements can only be made from the main office!" A nearby teacher shouted, pointing out the obvious. Persons of authority _[even of the insignificant sort]_ had been gathered up in the lunch room to _discuss_ the situation as the remaining students remained corralled together _in the center_ of the gym to prevent any more meddling or escape attempts. Police and teachers had been left to watch them, but the head of the unit as well as a handful of staff members from the school stood with her at one of the lunch tables to decide whom was doing what.

 _Not that anyone besides herself actually knew what was going on._

"I'm going to _assume_ no one bothered to lock the front office at the time of the incident."

Teachers glanced at one another blankly before getting back to her with grim frowns.

Dr. Kartwright pinched the bridge of her nose, her head tipping back as she resisted the urge to just _shoot everyone._ It would make her feel better, but it was a waste of good bullets. " _Do not a single one of you know how to secure a location?"_ She quested through clenched teeth before shaking her head, hips shifting as her hands fell to the table for her weight to lean forward on. "We don't have time for this- I want what's left of the student body escorted to the other side of the building- treat it as a lock-down situation, and report any abnormal student behavior; at least one teacher and one officer to each group. _Do not let any student go home,_ even if their parent or guardian shows up and demands as much. All other police members- we have three bogeys loose in the school. _Contain_ them if possible, _dispatch_ them if not. Understood?"

The sharp question at the end of her instructions was not met with any sort of timely response. There was a dull ' _uuuh'_ from a male teacher who looked shiftily between his co-workers before awkwardly raising his hand.

 _Really? Jesus sucking Moses's dick, what is wrong with these people?_

"... _yes?"_ She quested while dully gesturing at him with one hand.

"Why are we _holding_ the students... when it's... almost past three? I mean, they _should_ be going home by this time."

Did these people not hear a _fucking word_ she said? They'd already been _given_ an explanation in line with a possible bio-hazard and the related containment. The teachers knew that it made the infected _aggressive,_ as noted by the girl who first started this _dismal_ little incident with a violent attack against another student, but they were not yet aware that it could _spread._ They also didn't know what had _started_ it, but that was an entirely different matter.

"Any individual who attempts to leave the school is guilty of risking a pandemic." She stated flatly. "Now _move it!"_

A barked order finally got the gathered group to scatter, jumping up and heading off to do what was assigned.

With backs turned, Dr. Kartwright knew it was time to leave while the students were being moved. Everyone else would be focused on their specific task, giving her time to slip away without any particular notice... and be a _massive hypocrite._

That didn't matter- it sounded like the situation at the elementary school was going to hell in a hand basket; she was needed over there if there was any hope of salvaging what was left of this operation before the National Guard got involved. Some time had been bought on _that_ front; apparently a blizzard was moving into the area that would make getting to South Park too dangerous for any sort of military mobilization for the next few hours. Granted, snow was a whole _other_ hazard that would have to be contended with herself, but it kept _more stupid brass_ out of her hair until she could find a way to _handle_ the situation with minimal losses.

 _Loss prevention._ If they wanted her to do her job, maybe the should have _consulted_ her before they made this operation a 'Go'.

"Enough sulking." She told herself, digging under the long coat she'd put on in preparation for going outside and finding the comforting weight of a silenced pistol in her hand. The weapon was drawn out and visually inspected before she began down the hall at a brisk jog. She passed a unit of police who were moving into the school to try and locate the students who had turned dangerous, taking the turn towards the main offices; no doubt they'd assume she was off to investigate the announcement that warned of imminent destruction where they were keeping the student body. And, at least in part, they were right; she'd be doing that on her way out to the vehicle she'd rented for this trip.

Going to the main office meant passing by the nurse's office again- why wasn't there a door, there? Oh well, those corpses weren't her problem anymore. A pity, but not worth more than a second glance as she took the turn into the office and strode down the short hallway before the open space and its glass doors. There, she was able to observe a number of things in quick succession; first, the weather outside was turning ugly. Thicker and thicker puffs of snow were falling down in great clusters of fluffy flakes that were piling up quickly in the streets of this little mountain town. The school parking lot had at least a few inches of even coverage, and winds were kicking up to make drifts build up against curbs and cars. Second, there were _footprints_ in that fresh, fluffy snow; a _pair_ of students had made a run from this room, and not long ago. Third?

A wad of _tissues_ left behind on the secretary's desk. A small thing to note, it was _flu season_ after all, but was the secretary's so uncleanly? No doubt the person who actually _belonged_ behind that desk knew where the trash was. Meanwhile, someone who _didn't_ had recently stolen tissues from their feline-themed box and left them crumpled and snotty on the desk.

The good doctor came around the corner of the desk, giving the mouse of the computer a nudge to wake it up from screen saver mode. She was not terribly surprised to see the tool panel _for_ the screen saver- the last person to use this computer had manually turned it on to delay discovery of their work station. At first, Dr. Kartwright was thinking she'd have to pop two more minors in the head before she continued on to the elementary school... but there was something _more_ on that computer that caught her attention once she closed the settings window.

"... _hello,_ someone was _busy..._ not as stupid as you tried you _seem,_ are you little miss?"

She had to suspect it was the girl who had asked to used the restroom, and then sent her off to find feminine products. It was an old trick, but she'd _still_ fallen for it- was she getting old? … what was she talking about, she just wasn't used to working with _people._ Particular _kids._ Kids had no sense of _social awkwardness_ when it came to breaking rules or defying orders. Adults needed a _reason_ not to do what they were told. Kids just had to _not feel like it._ Either way, the work that had been _done_ here was that of a research expert who had minored in web security for all the wrong reasons.

She'd found a link.

She'd found _the_ link.

"... oh _hell."_

A moment later, it was as if an earthquake had struck. The floor lurched, letters were ejected from teacher's mailboxes against the back walls, the tissue box went to the floor along with every pen and loose paper in the room. Lights flickered, dust fell from the roof, and then it was _dark._ Elsewhere was a great _groaning_ of metal and concrete, following a _boom_ that reverberated within Dr. Kartwright's ribs and made her stand up and away from the desk to search for things that might _fall_ on her so she could avoid them. A tall bookshelf came down a step to her right, scattering a number of personal objects from the office staff and breaking even more.

 _Screaming._ The cries of adults and children in the hall- no doubt the promised demolition of the gymnasium and bus parking lot had just occurred.

This school was a lost cause; it was time to move on... and find a certain _meddling missus_ along the way.

* * *

"I'm... beginning to doubt the bus is coming."

Stan had to say it. Wendy had _adapted_ to so many things today, she just wanted _this one thing_ to act as it should have. She'd _looked forward_ to a nice normal ride on the city bus; something regular that would allow her to get her head back together and take a _breather..._ and yet, her hope for something _normal_ didn't change the fact that Stan was right; the bus was late according to the online schedule, and the snow wasn't deep enough to blame for it just yet... that meant something _else_ had happened.

She was beginning to feel paranoid. Nothing _just happened_ anymore, it was all part of the greater drama at play, here. Had the horrors they glimpsed at the middle school already taken over the main part of South Park? Was the town already falling apart, basic services like the bus stopping with the spreading chaos? Maybe main-street was already up in a riot, looting running rampant as people began looking out for themselves in preparation for the coming suffering of humanity.

"... we should start walking."

" _Walking?!"_ Stan snapped a look to her. "Wendy, do you see those clouds? That's a _snowstorm._ This isn't going to let up, and we didn't exactly stop to grab our coats."

"So we should get moving to find some shelter." She returned, faux calm covering an internal realization; they'd be too late by the time they made it to town to be of any help if they went by foot. They were going to be utterly cut off sooner rather than later; that meant she had some information to pass along to Dee and Kenny before cellular service dropped out due to both disaster and weather. "... I got a bunch of students to flood a bathroom earlier- they should have been able to escape through the athletic fields while the police were distracted. We should try and hook up with them- Jimmy has his cell phone. I'll pass info on to Kenny, and then we'll find them."

"... Wendy, what's wrong?"

Looking to him, she didn't want to answer him. The answer to all of his was ironic and insane, and she felt like she just couldn't _process_ it. There wasn't a _why_ that made sense to her, but that didn't make the links she'd discovered _any less true.._ and it meant Kenny and Dee were in a _lot_ more trouble. All the same, she opened her mouth to try and explain- and found herself interrupted by the sound of _wrenching metal._ It squealed and roared from the direction of the school; just in time for a massive gout of _steam_ to fire up into the sky near the edge of the building by the bus parking lot. From where they stood- a bus stop that was straight out along a sidewalk at the edge of the school's regular parking lot and up a hill, they could look down at the building and watch a portion of the roof collapse in.

"... well, there goes the boiler. Smaller than I thought it was going to be- then again, I _could_ have set off all four... Should have worked, though. It'll give everyone else a chance to get themselves out."

"And do... _what?"_ Stan questioned somewhat dumbly. "I _don't see_ anyone's parents here to pick anyone up- did they all get stuck in town?"

"Probably. Everyone on this edge is on their own. We should set up a meeting point for groups to get together- something on the edge of town that would _probably_ have a back-up generator."

"Wendy, _what are you talking about?"_ Stan demanded. "I want to go _home-_ I want to see my parents and watch the snow storm from my room, make some cocoa before the power goes out."

Did he still think that was possible? She wanted to laugh at him; the broken sort of laugh that _also_ desperately wanted to go home... but knew that wasn't happening. She didn't, though; that would have been cruel. "... home probably isn't _safe,_ Stan. What I found when I looked up the records of the infected students... the closer we get to the elementary school, the more messed up stuff is gonna be. We need to find someplace with back-up power to hide until the worst of it passes. Freezing temperatures should keep it contained to town, but..." She shivered, and it wasn't from the cold. "I don't think we can _stop_ this. Not without knowing what _caused_ it."

" _Why?_ You said you had found a _link_ or something- Wendy, I need you to explain this to me."

" _Yes,_ Wendy, why don't you explain it to him?"

A new voice had joined the conversation; one that surprised the pair of children away from each other to look up and back towards the school- to find they'd been joined by an adult. A serious-looking woman with long brown hair that had since contained by a black knit hat and a long leather coat that snapped against her legs in the wind. As a final detail, and perchance this _was_ the most important one; _she had a pistol with a silencer fitted to the end._

"Oh _shit_ it's you-" Wendy took a step back, whimpering as the serious woman aimed the pistol more directly at her as a warning _not_ to run. "- uh... hi?"

"Hello to you, _miss bathroom-_ I'd love to lecture you about _honesty,_ but I get the feeling we don't exactly have the _time,_ do we? _You_ are coming with me, _now."_

" _You're not gonna shoot us?"_ Wendy and Stan asked the question in stereo, in a mixture of shock and relief.

"I don't like shooting people I respect." The serious woman said while looking at Wendy. After that, she addressed Stan with a split-second glance. "The _lackey_ is optional."

"No he is _not!"_ Wendy responded in an instant, stepping forward to put herself smartly between the woman and Stan without pausing to think about it. "... now... what do you _want_ from me?"

" _Move,_ we don't have time to waste." The woman gestured with her pistol. "I have a vehicle waiting just on the other side of the hill."

"Not before you tell us who the hell you are!" Stan finally spoke up, still indignant from being called _the lackey._

"Dr. Haley Kartwright, CDC." She provided her name in a terse tone that sounded just about ready to _shoot_ Stan, despite Wendy's protest against the idea. "I'm the person who's work got _bastardized_ for this sloppy-ass operation they called a _human trail-_ and _you two_ are the kids who just ruined containment operations on your school and made this site a lost cause, so I _suggest you move your asses before I shoot you both_ and try and pick up the pieces at the elementary school on my own. That's where _you_ want to go, too, don't you...?"

A pause was taken for Wendy and Stan to share a surprised glance. This woman was a stranger- a _dangerous_ stranger, but she had a vehicle and was heading the same place they needed to go if they wanted to be of any help. After a second of shared eye contact, they also shared a nod.

Wendy looked back at this Dr. Kartwright, and nodded sharply. "Let's go."

Shared agreement allowed for a faint reduction in _tension._ Granted, Dr. Kartwright didn't put her pistol away as they continued walking to cross the crest of the hill and arrive at a black compact car that was parked along the side of the street. It was covered in powdery snow, but it didn't take long to brush it off and start the vehicle up. The good doctor took the wheel as Wendy and Stan loaded themselves into the back- it smelled of air fresheners from a thousand different companies.

" _So."_ The good doctor started as she rolled the engine over and buckled up, cranking up the heat before she got into gear and started the drive back towards town. "Little miss _Wendy,_ was it? It seemed you found yourself some _important details_ before _blowing a boiler._ Care to share with the class?"

"You didn't already know?" Wendy shot back with venom. "You said it was _your work_ that made all this happen, didn't you?"

"My work got sodomized _up-side down by undergrads and morons in an act of academic gang rape."_ The doctor snapped from the front seat, her weapon still occupying one of her hands that draped itself over the top of the driver's wheel in a casual show of aggression. "And _then_ I got put into the task force as _loss prevention-_ a _joke_ of an _observation_ position with _no real power_ until a crisis is declared. _That_ happened just before communications dropped out, but _fat lot of good it did anyone._ Are you pissed off your school got used for a government experiment? _Good for you, me too!_ My research wasn't _ready_ to leave the lab, yet! I didn't have a _flying fucking clue_ what was going to happen!"

"Oh my _GOD!"_ Stan shouted. "Can you two _stop?!_ Wendy, just _tell her_ what you found out- we don't have time for the _blame game."_

Blame game?! Wendy wanted to snap at Stan... but that seemed to just make his point for him. With a slow inhale, she nodded a little as she let it out. "Alright, alright. Kenny and Dee have been feeding me information on infected or potentially infected individuals, and everyone they've found so far who wasn't _bitten_ all have something key in common."

"And _what's that?"_ Stan stressed.

"They weren't properly vaccinated as kids- Summer was allergic to eggs, so she couldn't be vaccinated as a baby. There were two other boys who were in the nurse's office earlier; named Colin and Jack. Colin was born premature and is immune-compromised, he _couldn't_ be vaccinated. Jack didn't have any medical problems, but I guess his parents just... decided not to?"

"Oh, wait, I know a Jack-" Stan blinked, thinking about it. "His parents are kinda... _weird._ He wanted to join one of the sports teams, but you _had_ to have your shots to participate; they threatened to sue the school for discrimination, but it never went anywhere..."

" _Fucking anti-vax idiots."_ Dr. Kartwright muttered from the driver's seat.

"The last confirmed case was a little boy at the elementary school- his name was Caleb. He had cancer when he was little- just recently deemed healthy. This year was his first year of actually being able to _come_ to school, but there was no way he was at the point where he could have been fully vaccinated."

"And the only way his parents could _trust_ he'd be safe at school is because of _herd immunity."_ The doctor lectured. "But that's a concept that's gone _straight out the damn window_ with more and more people these days- the idea that old diseases that used to kill humans _by the thousands_ in horse-and-wagon days were put to _bed_ by vaccinations- _nearly eradicated!_ Oh, we don't worry about _those_ anymore, let's worry about vaccinations causing _autism_ even after the study was _de-fucking-bunked!_ Do you know who even _made_ that study? A _greedy_ son-of-a-fuck who was _developing his own MMR vaccine!_ He was trying to scare people off of one product to _sell his-_ and he got stripped of his fucking doctorate in the process, and yet people are _still_ huddling behind that stupid study because _science is scary!"_

"... raw nerve." Wendy commented dryly.

"Do you have _any_ idea what the vaccination rates are at the elementary school in this school district are? _Seventy percent._ That is a _dismal_ average, more than enough for diseases to get a foot-hold and _spread- and risk mutation into forms we_ _ **don't**_ _have vaccinations for._ It's even worse in other parts of the world! We have models for it- projections have new _plagues_ ripping through the global population within the next generation because of these _hippy morons_ who don't have the _balls_ to get their kids vaccinated _because they're afraid they're gonna give their kid a disability-_ and you know what it's become? _FUCKING ZOMBIES!_ Because someone took _my_ idea of just making an aerosolized vaccine and pumping it into the _air_ at public schools- no choices, just _do_ it and tell parents to _deal with it._ No eggs, so no issue with egg allergies. I _hadn't finished- no safety for the immune-compromised, they didn't fucking care..."_

"Wait- so if kids went to public school, they'd get vaccinated just by _breathing?_ Isn't that kinda... _shady?"_ Stan questioned.

"Oh, it's _shady as fuck."_ The doctor agreed, breaking out of her angry muttering. "But it was better than humanity falling back into a festering pile of diseases _no one has had to die of for a century._ Everyone forgot how _dangerous_ it is to live without modern medicine! We took it for granted!"

"Wait, wait, _wait-"_ Wendy was putting her hands up now. "... so... _everyone_ who hasn't been vaccinated is gonna turn?"

" _Fully_ vaccinated." Dr. Kartwright stressed. "The first experiment was supposed to _only_ be the middle school, but once they got started no one felt like _listening_ to me and they just rigged it up for the whole district. Of course, _we_ weren't expecting our test subjects to react like _this."_

"... and with the snow, no one's coming to contain it. Not right away." Wendy observed.

"Shit on a shingle, nothing gets past this girl."

"You have _no_ idea." Stan confirmed.

"Wait, what are _you_ gonna do?" Wendy questioned the doctor. "You're just _one_ lady with a gun."

"I can select a sample." She responded with a huff. "A single infected individual, more if I can secure them. When the military _can_ get here and stick it's _clumsy ass nose_ into this mess, I'd like to have everything I need to start refining my method _before_ they can get in my way."

" _Refining?!_ Shouldn't you be looking for a way to _fix_ them?"

"Of _course_ I'm gonna look for a way to _fix_ them- fucking Jesus surfing a wave of whale jizz, what kind of heartless bitch do you take me for?" The doctor actually glanced towards the mirror to look into the back seat. "... this was all about saving lives, _despite_ human stupidity. The fight is still the same, the playing field just changed."

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

So, just so you all know the particular logical loop that led to the title; if everyone who _could_ get their vaccinations _did_ get vaccinated, this shit _wouldn't be happening,_ and there would have been no zombie accident, _but_ the compound made that _is_ causing the zombies _is itself_ a sort of vaccination... and the title is a statement of disbelief, so yeah. _Vaccinations? Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! Y'all are crazy._

And _this_ is why I wanted to file this fic as humor. I felt it struck on the sort of South Park nonsense irony that the episodes often use to make for horrible yet hilarious scenarios. I think my personal desire for emotional investment from the characters is what led it to being a more serious and suspenseful work XD.

Either way, I hope you all look forward to the resolution to this little tale. :3

 _-Buttlord._


	12. On the Subject of Smelly Time Travel

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - On the Subject of Smelly Time Travel::**

 _Silence_ was a valid response to a great many situations; particularly those involving a direct sense of _danger._ When one felt their well-being, or the well-being of someone they cared about was directly threatened, silence was generally one of the two default responses to said threat; that and _bellowing like a monster out of hell,_ but the _actual_ monsters had that base more than covered. With that being true, it seemed that silence was the only _correct_ response to what laid ahead.

Kenny and Dee had arrived at the entrance to the elementary gymnasium, but there were no less than a dozen... _creatures_ trying to open it. The zombies were no less grotesque than the one they'd encountered on the playground, all sharing the same ashen skin and black _goop_ leaking from their mouths, though they were substantially less mutilated. More than anything, however, the fact that they all used to be _children_ was something that led to hesitation once they'd stepped into the hall and seen what they were dealing with.

The kids were not from any single age group; the smallest appeared as if they may have come from the preschool class, while others could have been from the forth grade or anywhere in-between. The group _massed_ around the door, grabbing onto the doorbar and yanking, pushing, _beating_ their necrotic fists against it until knuckles bled and left behind smears of thin black fluid that appeared to be an imitation of blood. Now and again, one of them would grow frustrated, step back, and let out another one of those terrible _howling screams_ before returning to the assault on the door.

Kenny and Dee had observed for at least a minute in perfect stillness from the far end of the hallway. Both had frozen upon seeing the scene, neither had made a move towards action, and the creatures in the mob did not distract easily from their task. After an adrenaline-filled eternity of watching, Kenny took hold of Dee's elbow and very slowly led her back around the corner- _out of line-of-sight,_ before he began to whisper to her.

"If they want in there, there's probably some people alive in the gym."

There was a touch of _hope_ in his voice. Dee had to guess he was praying that Karen was in there- Ike, too, Kyle's little brother was also somewhere around this building, but they both knew who Kenny's priority was. She gave him a short nod, trying to consider how one might lead a small zombie horde away from a door without getting bitten or trapped. Dee's first thoughts were the gates that could cut off the hallways at certain points; the pair of them could _probably_ set up a trap that would clear the door. As they tucked themselves in their current hiding spot, she tugged on his shirt sleeve and gestured towards the nearest gate in this hall.

"The gates? We can't lock them... but we haven't seen any particular signs of _intelligence..."_ Kenny mused on the idea for a few seconds, and then nodded his agreement. "Okay, I got it..."

A few seconds were spent on explanation, but it was almost unnecessary; they'd had the exact same idea. Dee got up and began making her way into one of the halls that circled around the 'block' that was the gym's space in the building, carefully pulling closed gates along the way that would have allowed the small horde out of this particular circle of student lockers and closed doors. The main key was to keep a path they could use to _get the fuck out;_ but that could be accomplished by literally _any_ broken window on the ground floor. Once the circuit was secured, she picked a gate that closed off the hall itself to serve as an 'end point'. This one she pulled _mostly_ closed, and placed herself in the space between it and the wall. Then, satisfied that she was prepared to face down a 'running of the zombies' sort of situation, she drew out her phone and shot a single-word text to Kenny.

' _READY'_

Now she just had to wait on his signal; he had his own part of the 'track' to check, and then he had the particularly _risky_ job of finding a place to hide and hoping the zombies passed him by when Dee made some noise to attract them. If they noticed him? He would be trapped and dead, and Dee would have to finish closing this 'net' herself.

Either way, it got at least one of them to the gym doors. She'd just not think about the possibility and risk included in this gambit; she had to trust that it was something they could pull off. If she panicked, she might do something _stupid._

Finally, her phone buzzed at her. Another single word had been sent back to her.

 _'GO'_

Here came the gamble; the _assumption_ that the zombies screamed for a reason. The _assumption_ that it was a call to others of their own 'kind', attracting them to food opportunities rather than pure, primal noise.

And the _assumption_ that they would come to someone trying to make the same noise.

Dee wasn't sure if she was _capable_ of that kind of screaming. The school seemed so quiet all of the sudden; _prohibitive_ to loud noises that would break it up aside from the occasional echoing _thud_ of too many hands trying desperately to force a locked gymnasium door. The creatures had not screamed in a while, and the utter _quiet_ of it all left Dee with an eerie feeling; as if a hand might have closed around her throat and an unseen face insisted she _hush_ with all the shame that could be produced by a grouchy librarian.

Then she heard one of the zombies let out that _horrific_ noise. That _guttural, from the bottom of the lungs and without a hint of restraint_ _ **screeching**_ bounced its way down the halls and into her ears. It connected along nerves, into her brain, and suddenly she knew _exactly_ how that sound was made.

And then she was making it. She was _screaming back,_ answering the cry, _over here, I am over here, and I hear you._ She put more of herself into it that she entirely wanted to, holding the sound for as long as her lungs had air, expelling it with the full strength of her diaphragm, _tasting blood as the abrasive nature of it tore at the back of her throat._

There was a pause, and then she was answered. Answered by the calls of the child-creatures at the gym doors- _and by something else on the upper floor that had a much deeper voice._

 _Stop, stop it, they're coming. You can stop now._

Much as when she felt she could not start, she suddenly felt just as strongly that she could not _cease._ It was upon her force of will that her jaw snapped shut like a trap just as a dozen monsters who dribbled black ooze from their lips shuffled around the corner and locked eyes on her. What had been a somewhat _slow,_ even... _leisurely_ movement became _tense._ Glassy, cloudy, _dead_ eyes locked upon her and recognized no humanity; only _meat._ Shuffling walks picked up to lurching throws of stiffened bodies.

Further up the hall, she heard a metal gate being thrown shut; Kenny had closed his side of the net.

When she focused on the group of monsters once more, they were closer than she expected. How did the dead pick up ground so quickly? She stepped back, out of the space she'd made for her body, and shut her own side of the gate, turning quickly to book it around the gym and come back from the other side.

When she arrived at the gym doors, Kenny was already trying to peer inside through the narrow windows in the doors. They were, after all, still _locked,_ but he couldn't see anyone inside the gym. The power was on, the lights were on, but the room appeared to be quite, quite empty... but the windows couldn't exactly _see_ everything. Anyone in the room could have easily ducked down into a blind spot to avoid seeing what was coming for them.

"Well, at least that group is pinned..." Kenny muttered, trying to find the silver lining once he accepted that he wouldn't be getting the door open any time soon. He stepped away from the door, looked over to where Dee was still trying to catch her breath- and _froze._ The pair of them made eye-contact, and she saw fear and shock in his face.

 _What's wrong?_ Her silent question, asked with eyebrows that arched up as she blinked at him.

"Are... you... _feeling_ okay?" He asked her, slowly.

 _Uh-oh. I don't like the sound of that- let's cut to the chase._

"Is something wrong?" She asked him; her usual inarticulate ways had no place when the situation was literally life and death.

"You've got some... uh..." He made a small gesture, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was a motion she mimicked, looking down and seeing a smear of _black ooze_ on her hand after doing so.

None of them had screamed _at her-_ none of them had made any of those gross bubbles to _pop_ on her. How could she have gotten some of that stuff on her, unless...?

"... did that come out of your mouth? Your teeth are..."

She blinked, reaching a finger into her own mouth to extract a quick visual sample. Sure enough, the saliva that coated the digit when she withdrew it was tainted with an _inky_ quality. What the hell did this mean? Was she turning? _Why_ was she turning? She didn't _feel_ any different, not within her own skin... but that _screaming_ she'd done; it had been giving into an urge, something outside herself that was subtly slipping itself into her behavior and _wearing her like a suit._

She didn't like it. A stone of dread sank into the bottom of her stomach, and she backed away from Kenny.

"Whoa, hey, _wait- Dee, don't run. Don't run."_

Did he actually _mean_ that? Wasn't running the _best_ thing she could do if they were about to find survivors? They had no idea if the bite was _required,_ or if she could infect people just by contaminating them with the black shit that was probably going to start dribbling _out of every fucking hole she had in her body._

"It's time to go back." She suddenly realized. "... Kenny, if I'm turning, it's time to go back."

" _But we don't know what caused this whole crock of shit."_ He hissed, still whispering, still fearful of a possible attack. "Going back without a _target-"_

" _It's better than losing the ability to go back, isn't it?"_ She batted back at him, throwing open her hands. " _You_ were the one that told me Kenny, if I start turning that I should just _do it,_ don't hesitate."

She had him. She had him and it made him quiet. He looked towards the gym, staring at the doors for a few seconds before looking back at her.

Was he about to cry?

"We have to find out enough to make sure Karen is gonna be okay." He pleaded. His voice hadn't lost any of its confidence, his usual _I can do anything at least once_ sort of blase attitude mixed with his determination _to_ do something was still there... but there was fear in it. Fear for someone besides himself who _wasn't_ so immortal. "I have to find her, Dee. We need to find out enough so when you go back, we can protect her. We don't know how many tries we'll get."

 _That_ was true. The time-travel was a _finicky_ thing once the jumps started getting longer. Hopping back a few seconds left ghostly memories behind in people who suddenly had not taken the actions they thought they had. It was an odd, cloudy sort of de'ja'vu that never quiet went all the way away. The memory still existed in _duality,_ side-by-side with what _did_ happen. Longer jumps into the past could produce a _duplicate_ Dee to the version of herself that existed in that time, or merge her into the consciousness and body of the Dee who existed before. Hops forward were the same, sometimes leaping her into the mind of herself in the middle of a task, unaware of the time she'd skipped over but told that yes, she _was_ around during that time. Other times, she was independent, appearing in a time and place she had not been before and surprising those around her by being there. Truly, the first step of any time-hop was _identifying_ what kind of hop she'd done by the reactions of those around her at arrival.

If she doubled, she never wanted to do the time-hop more than once. She and her duplicate selves tended to _fight,_ and multiple hops back to the same time meant _more versions of herself to contend with._ If she _didn't_ double, multiple hops back had a _disorienting_ effect; human minds had trouble keeping multiple versions of reality straight without flow-charts. It was also surprisingly _easy_ to slip back into the original order of events, the timeline she'd hopped back from becoming a fuzzy faux memory on the edge of her awareness that she followed like tracing lines on a light table. She supposed it made sense; humans had been living temporally _linear_ lives for centuries, it was what their minds were built for.

After too many hops, she might _forget_ why she hopped, and this shit would just be a shitty-ass time loop. For all she knew, _that had already happened-_ not that Kenny knew any of those details. He just knew she didn't like to re-do things too many times from her stout refusal to hop for trivial reasons.

But if she didn't go? What if she turned? She wouldn't be able to go back and warn anyone; not unless her zombie-self _accidentally_ farted herself back into the past, and somehow she found that rather unlikely. Neither of them knew how fast it happened, or at what point things went downhill. All they knew was that she was... _leaking._

She didn't know what to say; she couldn't offer Kenny any sort of certainty. They had no idea what had started this. All the same, her mouth was open to _try-_ She couldn't just _not try_ when he was looking at her like that. It was cruel, a feeling that made her feel like someone were trying to rip her heart out through her ribs.

Almost as a relief, something interrupted her. At first it sounded like more unearthly screaming, from whatever creature it was that was letting loose terrible howls on the second floor- but this was more... _human?_ It didn't _hurt_ like the creatures when they belted out their cries. This was the whimpering cries of a person in trouble.

"H- _Hello?! I-is someone there?!"_

A voice, calling out from closer than before. Dee knew that voice...! She traded a glance with Kenny; they both recognized the voice that was calling out from the upper floor, which now sounded as if it might had been descending the stairs.

 _Butters!_

Seconds later, there was another sound; a reminder that _one of those fucking things_ _ **was**_ _up there,_ and not conveniently trapped behind the metal gates here on the first floor. When Dee heard it, the part of her throat that still felt _raw_ and _scratchy_ from her own oral rigors responded with a _clench,_ with the _urge_ to scream like that again in response to the monstrous bellowing that came from above.

Kenny wouldn't say it, but he felt it, too. He didn't know what it felt like to make that sound, but he felt the urge to _try._ Something in him, black and rotten, was festering and finding its way to the surface one little piece at a time. He was just musing on what it _meant_ when Dee suddenly took off; dashing down the hall towards the sounds that were coming from the upper floor. He blinked- glancing back, he felt _reluctant_ to leave the gym doors. What if Karen was in there? Or Ike? Or anyone else of the younger generation that he knew? It was _maddening_ to not at least know that they were okay.

… then again, if he were turning, what right did he have to enter a safe zone? He'd endanger everyone in there if he didn't know _when_ he was gonna turn. That wouldn't help Karen; if he wasn't careful, _he'd kill her himself._

" _... fuck."_

He put his head down, chasing after his hot-blooded partner.

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

 _MY KITTY IS BACK!_ We put a live trap out where he got lost with his favorite blanket and food, and we caught him! He's in my lap right now, sleeping between my arms and my laptop as I type this. He's been a very cuddly boy since he got back home.

Meanwhile, _hoo-boy,_ looks like Kenny and Dee have found themselves in some trouble, doesn't it? Mwehehe...

-Buttlord


	13. Too Little, Too Late

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Too Little, Too Late::**

"Oh, _shit!"_

Wendy's declaration was so sudden and sharp, enough so that Dr. Kartwright swerved slightly on the road; brief sliding occurred that made all occupants of the vehicle yell before course correction got them back on track.

"What the _hell_ was that about?!" The doctor snapped from the front.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just forgot- Kenny and Dee, they still need information from me! The more they know, the sooner we can be _done_ with this mess."

"... _done?"_ The doctor quested as Wendy fished her phone out of her coat pocket, eyeing the child in her back-seat by way of her rear-view mirror. "What do you mean... _done?_ The snow may keep this place isolated, but I don't see this _disaster_ being cleaned up in anything less than a _year._ There's going to be quarantine, cover-up, recovery, rebuilding- The National Guard _will_ stick their noise into this as soon as the storm is over, and when they do this town is going to be _off the grid_ or _napalmed_ out of existence. You two are, not to put _too_ fine a point on it- _FUCKED._ Along with the rest of this bloody mountain town."

"Then why the hell did you bother to pick us up?" Stan wondered with a growing sense of _dread._ He had frankly felt that things might actually _improve_ once the doctor stopped pointing that gun at them; like they'd run into an adult who actually knew what was happening. Someone who would _swoop_ in and _fix_ everything... but now the tone had changed. He tripped over it, tension rising back up in his shoulders as he considered how much the snow would pad him if he suddenly opened the car door and rolled out. Could he get enough clearance if he took Wendy with him? _Fuck_ she was buckled up, like a safe person. That would make bailing out hard, he was _not_ going to leave her behind.

" _You_ are a vestigial tag-along and a waste of a bullet." Kartwright responded with a scoff. "I picked up _Wendy_ because I _respect_ what she did at the school. I don't _like_ what it did to my plans, but I respect that kind of ingenuity. So! Here I am, driving the pair of you _into the heart of this little circle-jerk drama._ Once I get my test subject, I'll be busy keeping it secure; why, I might even leave the car _running!_ Who cares if a pair of joy-riders happened to take it away while I wasn't looking? No one is going to care about a fucking _rental_ at a time like this."

"... you feel bad." Stan observed with a trace of shock. The doctor may have seemed _serious, furious-_ even, with the way she'd been ranting... but she'd picked them up because she hadn't been able to stand _not_ to. She'd only _been_ here because it was her job and it was her work that was being used in a bad experiment, against her will. All at once, he realized just how hard the woman must have been working to _keep it together_ as much as she had. "You're gonna let us try to get away, because you feel _guilty."_

"It's the best I can do." The doctor muttered to herself. It was loud enough to be heard, but it wasn't directed at the kids who rode along with her. "It's the best I can do." She repeated it, quieter, fading into an almost feverish mantra.

"No, it's _not._ We can undo it!" Wendy cried. "We- We just have to _get_ to Dee!"

"Who the hell is _Dee?_ And what can they do about this fucking mess?"

There was a pause. Wendy realized just how _insane_ the explanation might sound to someone who didn't live in South Park. "Dee is our friend, she can travel in time with her farts."

"... _what?"_

That was not the sound of Dr. Kartwright believing her. That was the sound of _have you gone fucking insane with the stress, little girl?_ She got a side-ways glance that bypassed the mirror for direct contact before the doctor faced forward once more, keeping her eyes on the road.

"Right. Funny."

"She's not kidding." Stan defended seriously. "Our friend has legit superpowers; the government has been trying to capture him since he moved here."

" _She."_ Wendy corrected flatly. "You were _there_ when everyone found out."

"I _know_ but I've just been _thinking_ of _her_ as a _him_ for _years_ and it's hard to get used to, okay? Besides, if you're suggesting Dee just _reset_ to before this all happened, I won't remember anyway. What's the point?"

"Wait, _wait, fucking wait-_ your friend... what _other_ superpowers might they have?"

The teens in the back shared glances before Wendy took the lead. If everything worked out the way she expected, it wouldn't matter who she told. "Social media; anything Dee posts online goes viral instantly. She can influence half the world with a single post."

" _Son-of-a-_ the fucking _propaganda factory_ is here?"

"We usually call him _Buttlord."_ Stan offered dryly.

"Wait- wait- the _social media superhuman_ the US government has been trying to capture for _more than a decade_ has time-travel powers? That... _actually_ explains why we haven't been able to pin them down..."

"That's only been for the past couple of years or so, I think. She doesn't exactly _talk about it."_

The car went quiet as the doctor brought it to a stop, putting the vehicle into park. Stan peered out a window; he could see the elementary school, but it was a ways up the street yet. There was a _massive_ traffic jam between them and the building.

"... _that's unhelpful."_ Kartwright muttered. Shaking her head, she turned around in her seat to look at the two kids in the back. Much like back at the middle school, her gaze was excessively serious... but there was also _desperation_ in her face. Eyes were _wide,_ nearly _pleading._ "So, your friend can just... _rewind_ all of this until it didn't happen? How far back can she go?"

"As far as I know, the furthest she's ever hopped back is a month." Wendy reported.

"When did you get to know Dee's powers so well?" Stan questioned; this was news to him.

"Stan, listen, I spend a _lot_ of time working with Buttlord and Mysterion, okay? I co-ordinate them when they work together, as Call Girl."

" _You're still working as Call Girl?!"_ Stan gaped. "... has... have you... uh, changed the costume?"

" _Ahem."_ Kartwright cleared her throat. "If we are going to call this timeline _doomed,_ does it matter? I assume that's why she told you- you're not going to remember."

"Huh? Oh _fuck!"_ Stan pouted, looking down at his shoes as the ladies in the car returned to business.

"This horrible excuse for an experiment took _months_ to set up, but it wasn't set into motion until this morning- your friend would only have to go back a _day_ to stop all of this chaos before it happens... and I think I know how they can do it. Where are they? I should speak to them as soon as possible."

"Well, _about that..."_ Wendy sheepishly pointed towards the elementary school. "... she and our friend Kenny went in there, hunting down a trouble-making student who may have been infected."

"Infected? Infected _how?"_

" _... Dee bit him."_

Kartwright blinked, frowning deeply. "You're telling me _Dee_ is infected as well? I do not see how a _dead teenager_ is going to go anywhere in time, forward or back."

"No, no, _that gets complicated-_ the other kids who were infected right away at our school, they all reported to the nurse's office right before lunch. They all felt really ill, threw up, felt better, and went back to class. Dee and Kenny were among this group- _but,_ as we all know, Summer clearly turned _within hours,_ and the other two students... well, I don't know about those."

"They turned shortly after everyone was ordered to the gym; enough to make it statistically insignificant. Different immune systems fighting the same losing battle." Kartwright waved her hand to ignore it. "Continue."

"Ah, right... good to know, I suppose. Anyway, Kenny and Dee have vomited again since then, evidence of black... liquid in their spew. That was the last symptoms I heard of, but neither has felt particularly aggressive or ill. They're not turning like the others, but they might be carriers. Dee and this other student had a fight at lunch- Dee bit him in self-defense, and then left school due to... _adverse conditions._ The other student was sent home, but likely manipulated his mom to take him to the elementary school to carry out a prank. _"_

That was one way of saying she was fucking terrified after being made so vulnerable in front of her peers.

" _Interesting..._ I assume you weren't able to get immunization records on this Dee person? Or Kenny?"

Wendy frowned, looking down at her feet."Dee didn't have medical records on file that I could access in the time I had; her family has worked hard to keep her hidden her whole life. Kenny had records of immunization on file; it appears he and his mother received all recommended care via state health care, despite their poverty."

Wendy would leave out her suspicions that Kenny's reported incapability to _die_ could possibly have something to do with why his vaccination state was in question; she'd only eavesdropped on a couple 'conversations' between Dee and Kenny after operations. Back before the habit to black-out communications after a job had been established, Kenny had been halfheartedly thanking Dee for a save. Dee must have given him a _look,_ because a moment later he was explaining the whole damn mess down to the nitty gritty details of _shooting himself in the head in front of his friends to try and get them to remember,_ and _still_ it didn't work. Reluctantly, of course, but once he _started_ talking he just kept going until he was forced to admit he didn't know _how_ it worked, simply that it _did._

If Kenny had suffered so many traumatic wounds, why did his body bare no evidence? No scarring, no blemishes? It was possible he was torn up to fuck under his clothes, but Wendy had never seen nor heard any hint that he had a single identifying mark on his person. Wendy had a theory that Kenny's flesh was somehow _renewed_ by the same mysterious power that didn't allow him to die. New bones, new muscles, new skin, _new immune system..._ but Kenny himself also reported he'd been dying _less_ as he got older. For all he knew, he'd been on his own for _years,_ unaware of any unique health needs.

"Either way, they're both seemingly in a gray area." Wendy concluded. "I should contact them, and let them know we want to meet up. Preferably at a _safer_ location than the school... though with _time_ being a factor, we may not have much choice."

"Wait, you wanna _go in there?"_ Stan asked, staring at Wendy for a moment before shoving his hands deeply into his pockets. He didn't like this. "Oh jeez..."

" _Want_ has very little to do with it." The doctor intoned. "This has become _need-_ I can't believe I'm signing onto this... _fucking cock on a Christmas cookie_ I can't believe it... maybe I broke back there, and this is all a fucked hallucination, but hey- _let's go find a farting government fugitive and beg them to fart back to the past and change the future!"_

Wendy gave another bob of her head in the affirmative, directing her phone to call Kenny. She put it up to her ear, waiting as it rang... _and rang... and rang..._

She blinked as it went to message... and it seemed as if Kenny had not bothered to set up his voice mail box. Unable to record anything, she was forced to hang up without making any sort of contact and looking down at her phone with a little anxiety building up in her. Had something happened? She had trusted Kenny and Dee had the situation well in hand; they were her partners, after all. She had to trust them to take care of themselves.

 _They're just busy._ She told herself. _I'll text them._

"Something wrong?" Stan asked.

"Kenny didn't answer, and he hasn't set up his box." Wendy responded as she furiously began typing a massive info dump of all they'd figured out this far; the vaccination link, the fact that this whole mess was caused by the CDC- and that they had someone willing to talk with Dee on the exact moment in time she could back to in order to prevent all of this from happening; they just needed to hook up and talk. "I'm sending it to both Kenny and Dee- whoever checks their messages first wins, I guess."

"Wait, if Kenny didn't answer..." Stan didn't complete that thought. "Shit, _shit!"_ He spat, shaking his head. "This day _sucks!"_

"It's about to suck worse, kids. If those two are in trouble, they're going to require some help. That means _going in there."_ The doctor noted. "Any smart ideas on how to get around the front-yard blockade? Last I heard, the parents were throwing a riot."

* * *

Butters had decided; today was _not_ his day. He knew it long before he'd come tumbling out of the service stairwell, but it seemed to hit home as his nose crunched into the floor and left him bleeding down over his lips and gasping desperately for air as he grasped the door and looked back up into the stairwell.

 _Light_ had poured into the narrow way from the held door, and finally he was able to see what had happened within. There were a total of three figures. The first was the most horrific of them; a rotund figure that stood only somewhat shorter than himself, with dead gray skin and dull eyes that appeared to know not what they were looking at. They did not flash as they turned into the light, instead _glowing_ more like a cat's eyes in the night, or a demon's in a nightmare. It was continuous, and _inhuman_ in the way the light caught. The face that turned towards the creaking of the opening door was further removed with humanity by the splattered inky dribble that came from its lips, teeth stained black as the thing _hissed_ in Butters' direction.

Dead and drooling, with a bite on the forearm that appeared to _fester_ with blackened veins that rose up from the flesh, the creature that screamed so terribly was Eric Cartman.

The next figure his eyes managed to identify was a boy near the middle of the stairs, now a step below the Eric- _thing,_ who was clearly dead. He'd been _bitten,_ flesh torn around his throat and red blood oozing from the wound and dripping down the steps like a grotesque fount. Finally, the last boy of the group stood near the top of the steps, supporting himself upon the railing and staring in horror at the _thing_ that blocked his path to the door below.

"E-Eric?!" Butters cried out in surprise; was that Eric? Eric, with a black and red mixture smeared along his chubby face as if it were sauce at a BBQ party. "Holy _cow_ Eric, this is a long way to go for one prank!"

That's what this was, right? It _had_ to be a prank, right? That kid wasn't dead, everyone was just _messing_ with Butters again, like they always were. Eric did that all the time!

 _All the time. All the time, and right now. He has to be. This can't be real._

The _thing_ on the stairs stared at Butters a moment more, and then began to lumber down the stairs towards him. A lurching step, then another, stumbling and snarling down the steps towards where Butters held the door and looked on in abject terror.

"C-c'mon, Eric, t-that's enough, it was plenty f-funny but... okay, it wasn't _funny at all,_ but... that's enough! You had your fun! Ha-ha, c-can we just... m-move _on?!"_

He squeaked the last word, backing up and holding the door at length as the round figure that _was_ his friend neared the based of the steps, a line of _black drool_ falling from his mouth, which hung ajar.

Behind him, the other boy edged his way down the steps. Little by little, he worked his way closer to the door, and closer to Eric; he looked as if he might have been lining up to kick him from his advantageous position.

Butters let out a yelp when it happened, ducking down at the bigger kid kicked Eric in the back of the head and then attempted to jump right over him; skipping the last steps on the stairs and scrambling to get past the door.

He didn't make it.

His kick didn't seem to do as much as he expected, and his ankle was seized as he scrambled over Eric's... _impressive_ bulk. An ankle was then yanked back with the strength of a dead man, and then an leg, was grasped and pulled as well. There was no hesitation, no fear, no _aversion_ as _teeth_ were brought to the side of the boy's body and _bit down,_ producing greater screaming and making the boy reach out- _out towards Butters._ Out towards the boy who watched as a monster ripped at his flesh and yanked him back, back away from the square of light and freedom.

Butters, who stared at him in horror, stared at a boy he knew _eating_ another boy, teeth ripping through jeans and skin.

Butters, who stood in stunned silence.

Butters, who shut the door.

He felt as if he were someone else, grasping the heavy door and swinging it shut with a _slam!,_ turning his body and planting his back against it. He stood there, still bleeding from his nose, unable to breathe through it from the hot blood that had oozed out of the damaged cavity. Great globes of warm salty water covered his face as he _cried,_ listening to another boy _scream for help_ in the dark. Butters hadn't closed that door- no, no, he was a _Good Guy;_ he couldn't have _possibly_ closed that door. Clearly, that had been someone else. Someone who was afraid to die, who let that fear do the _selfish_ thing.

To do the _sensible_ thing.

He gasped through his mouth. His nose was blocked, bloody, painful and swollen. There was a _crunching_ noise from the other side of the door now, and he did _not_ want to know what was making it. From the other side of the door, he heard the thing _scream_ again- the sound made him sob, great shock-waves of tears running through him as he clutched his own body and tried to hold his heaving shoulders together.

From elsewhere in the school, he heard answering calls. Other voices.

What was he _doing_ here? He needed to _run._

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

To tell the full truth, I should have been asleep hours ago... but what can I say? Moving is anxious shit, and sleep is hard when they're coming to pack all my crap tomorrow morning and I don't even feel half ready for it. I just got my kitty back, and now I've gotta package it all up and send it away.

Military moves are a pain in the ass, my friends.

That said, I would once again like to thank _everyone_ for your readership and your support. The outpouring of love for me and my kitty has been extremely touching. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story. This particular _episode,_ as it were, is nearing its resolution- but don't worry! I've already got a second 'New Kid Story' in the planning phases. Make sure to follow me as an author to make sure you get the alert if you're enjoying this story, as I hope to keep bringing you more of my particular brand of crazy.

 _Onwards!_

 _-Buttlord_


	14. Pretty Sure This is a Boss Fight

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! – Pretty Sure This is a Boss Fight::**

If there was anyone who _didn't_ belong in this shit, it was Butters. Dee remembered feeling so _sorry_ for the kid when she first got to South Park; a feeling of empathy that had only increased over time. Back when they'd been playing Stick of Truth, she'd kept Butters with her as much as she possibly could if only because she felt she could _trust_ him more than the other boys who were playing. Later on, when Cartman changed the game to Superheroes, she'd lamented the fact that his Professor Chaos persona was a villain- then again, if she ever went into _fuck the world_ mode, she knew exactly who to team up with- she could only _imagine_ what kind of trouble she and Butters could get up to, combining his naive imagination with her... _can-do_ attitude about things.

Truly, she'd considered even asking him out once... he seemed a _simple_ sort of boy; the kind who would grow into someone she could _control-_ but that was far from any _healthy_ ideal, now wasn't it?

When she heard him calling for help, she supposed it was _reflex_ that got her feet moving. The same reflex that hurt her so terribly for the fact that she _couldn't_ help Kenny right now- but Butters? It was possible there was still something she could do for that poor son of a bitch.

And so she _ran._ Flat-out, head down, her whole body committed to each landing of her foot against the waxed hallway floor as she _sprinted_ for the stairwell with the intent of climbing steps two at a time.

Instead, she encountered another person rather _close_ to the bottom who had been moving just about as fast as she'd been. There was a sudden _crack_ of skulls hitting one another as she came around the corner for the stairwell, and was left dazed as she landed on her butt. Her faced screwed up as her hands came to her head, rubbing where the blow had occurred and blinking to try and get her rattled gray matter to focus on _what_ she'd so suddenly connected with... before she realized it was a _who,_ and he was also down on his butt, holding his head.

He was also _crying._ Outright _sobbing,_ truly. Shoulders had rounded over and this seemed to be the last straw that triggered outright hysterics, the person she'd so violently crashed into curling up into a ball, covering their head, and _bawling_ on the last step of the stairs.

It was Butters! But what had he been running from with such intense abandon? She looked up the stairs, but did not see nor hear anything in immediate pursuit. With a beat more of silence, she reached out to the poor blond boy and took him by the shoulders, trying to get him to _look_ at her.

Instead, he _yelped,_ one of his arms swinging out in terrified reflex. The other came after once the first was clumsily dodged, hitting Dee in the shoulder with a minimal amount of force. There was almost no true _violence_ to the movements, more the impotent wriggling of a boy who had very little left in him to struggle. She didn't release him, instead tugging him along as she got to her own feet. Finally, after so much squirming, Butters finally opened his eyes.

He didn't seem to recognize her at first, but he was relieved she was _alive._ Not gray, not one of the drooling and dead creatures that had been wandering this halls. Nope, she was a pleasing shade of fleshy pink, with brightly aware eyes that looked back at him. "O-Oh my _goodness,_ you have no idea- _so scared-..."_ Butters _blubbered_ out, still an open faucet when it came to overwhelmed tears. "Y-You're never g-gonna _know_ how happy I am to- to- _oh- Dee! It's you!"_

All at once, his face opened up into a warm smile, streaked with the raw fear he'd been running with... as well as blood. His nose appeared to have had a hard impact, and his face was best described as a clotted _mess._ His snoot was red, swollen, and blood covered his mouth and chin that had been smeared by multiple attempts to wipe it off; attempts that showed on the hems of his sleeves.

In response to him, she offered a small smile. It was against her habit to be _utterly_ unhelpful with the social cues, but it looked like he sorta _needed_ someone to smile at him right then- and sure enough, she could watch as the abject horror of it all drifted away from him for a few seconds and let him _breathe-_ through his _mouth_ of course, but still. Breathing. Breathing was good.

She felt as if she'd lifted a drowning man out of water.

"Oh _hamburgers,_ why are you here? Were you coming to stop Eric? W-Well, you might have _bigger_ problems, now... uh... s-something is _wrong_ at this school."

"We're aware of that."

"Kenny!" Butter's crowed, both he and Dee fully upright once more. Dee guided their recently found friend away from the stairwell and back into the halls that she and Kenny thought were _vaguely_ safe; if something was prowling around the upper floor, there was no need to stand in direct line-of-sight and tempt it down to where they were. Meanwhile, Kenny had approached from the same way Dee had, and Butters saw and greeted him with the same overflowing relief that Dee had gotten.

"Butters." Kenny greeted with a nod. "Are you alright? Any bites?"

" _Bites?_ Oh, jee whiz, _no!_ I-I mean... I don't _think_ nothin' bit me, you're both welcome to look me over." He offered as Dee released him, his feet clumsily stepping around one another as he turned himself in a circle, arms out in immediate compliance. "Y-you guys see anything?"

Dee's eyes turned sharp as Butters turned, but she saw no evidence that he'd been harmed in any manner beyond what was very likely a broken nose. Maybe some ruffling of his clothes, but it appeared the greatest damage Butters had suffered was _fear._

 _Thank fuck for small favors._

"Looks clean to me, what were you running from?" Kenny demanded, no relief showing in his voice. No, no, he was still _tense,_ still ready for everything to fall apart at a moment's notice.

"Oh, _that,_ _uh... w-well, you see..."_

Just a quickly as Butters had shown delight in finding his friends, his face fell into despair while his head twisted to peer over his shoulder and back at the stairwell.

"What happened was... u-uh... _well..."_

He was tearing up again. Dee watched as his face turned red- a deep crimson as he _tried_ not to weep, but tears overflowed his eyes anyway as he looked back towards them and covered his mouth. " _Oh goodness... oh my goodness gracious-"_ He muttered, over and over again into his palm, shaking his head from left to right as his other arm wrapped around his body, trying to protect himself from the mental anguish of simply _thinking_ about whatever it was that had chased him down this way.

" _BUTTERS!"_

Kenny's shout was sudden and without remorse; Dee watched as her partner seized upon the scared boy's shoulders and gripped him tightly, shaking him until Butters looked him in the face, whimpering as he shrank in Kenny's hands.

"Y- _Yes sir?!"_ He all but squealed, a reflex trained into him from places Dee did not desire to think about. She still believed there was an extra special place in hell for Butter's father. If there wasn't, she'd make one.

"Calm. The fuck. _Down._ Tell us what you saw."

Slow, deliberate words. Not soothing, but rather insisting that the waterworks cease for just long enough for him to convey information. Behind Butters, Dee gave Kenny one of her signature _looks,_ reminding him they were _not safe_ standing here in the hall with a crying and bleeding... _civilian?_ Why did she think of him like that? It wasn't like she and Kenny were military or actual super heroes; they were still _junior grade,_ at best, but she couldn't help but think of Butters as a helpless bystander, not part of their specific operation. She supposed _civilian_ was good mental short-hand, so long as she never said it aloud... not like _that_ was an issue.

"H- _he's up there."_ Butters finally managed to squeak out. " _I shut the door. I shut the door... I shut the door and then he screamed."_

"Door? What door?"

"Roof access... we were gonna go up on the roof, me and these o- _other fellas, Eric invited us... Eric, he's up there, he was up there and I shut the door."_

Neurotic muttering started up again, Butters lapsing into a repeated mantra of 'I shut the door' beneath his breath as his limbs once more coiled around his body- as if his own arms were the snaking thoughts that intended to _strangle_ him from within.

" _Fuck_ that doesn't sound good..." Kenny muttered. Dee couldn't exactly think of much argument, though it also was not much of an explanation. They already knew Eric was _probably_ up there, but there had been others, too? Something had _happened,_ but Butters did not appear to be of the right mind to tell the story. "Okay, okay... Butters?" When he spoke again, Kenny's voice had lost its edge. Just as quickly as he'd turned vicious, he had softened. Dee supposed it was good; knowing how to get information out of people... she just wished she wasn't constantly witnessing her friends being so _rough_ with one another.

It was easy to say _this was a doomed timeline_ and do whatever they wanted, but these memories didn't just _disappear_ into the ether. Butters would remember this, in some way. Some faint de'ja'vu the next time he looked at Kenny, or a terrible nightmare of the things he'd seen trying to get to the roof. Kenny, too, would not fully lose the things that happened on this chain of events. Faint suggestions would float through his mind from time to time- frankly, Dee suspected time travel was not as uncommon as people thought. The universe just tended to eat fucking paradoxes for breakfast; someone had to try and try _hard_ to get time to fuck itself, and try even _harder_ to get people to remember it... and yet? Equally difficult to make them completely _forget._

That little kid- the one back on the playground? He would have night terrors of what she did to him for years to come, assuming the patterns she'd been observing over the past few years held true.

"... I'm... I hear ya, buddy..." Butters finally responded after a pause in his muttering. He paused, looking like he was trying to _sniff_ to unblock his nose, but it wasn't working. Instead, he coughed, and a great glob of snot and clotted blood was expelled onto his upper lip. "... _ugh..."_

"We think survivors are hiding in the gym." Kenny told him. "Do you think you can get there on your own?"

"... I think... _I know."_ Dazed words that wandered this way and that, slowly forming into full thoughts as he managed to focus on Kenny's face and return to the moment at hand. "I-I can. I can make it."

"Good, go. And... do me a favor? Find my little sister; Karen. Find her, text me or Dee a picture or something; just let me know she's alright, okay. And, uh... tell her Mysterion came to protect her."

* * *

The stairs to the upper floor had become foreboding. Kenny and Dee stood together, at the foot, staring up and listening. Nothing had emerged from the upper floor, but after seeing Butters? … neither of them wanted to assume, but it sounded as if he'd witnessed a horror beyond description.

"... we don't have to go up there." Dee noted, quietly. "Butters was the one we cared about."

"What about the other boys who went with him? And Cartman?"

Dee's head swung to one side, hanging lax as if her neck were chain and her head were ball, creating a stance that left her head _hanging_ from her shoulders while giving him the mother of all _'Look at my barren field of fucks to give'_ look. As far as she was concerned, Cartman could take a zombie dick in every single orifice he had. Maybe someone could poke out his eyes to make room for two more players in _that_ sick game. Same went for anyone who threw in with him.

"... right. Because being mad at a guy means he doesn't deserve rescue. I thought you were a professional?"

Her neck went stiff. Her head was picked back up to sit properly above her shoulders, and her lips pressed into a pout. _Goddammit I hate it when you're right, Kenny._

"Then up we go." He concluded, once again taking point. He _always_ took the front; it wasn't just habit, it made sense. The incapability to die did not make him _disposable,_ but it did make him... well, somewhat impervious. Yes, sure, the flesh he was wearing today could get mutilated and die, but tomorrow would be a brand-new day. When plunging into the unknown with Dee, he _always_ took the lead. If something nasty burst from the shadows to decapitate him, Dee would either fart him back to fighting fit or he'd wake up the next day after it was all over. Either way, he had nothing but his sanity and sense of self-worth to lose, and his partner had every advantage to _gain_ from the arrangement... and when he did end up waking up the next day, he liked finding her alive on the other side.

 _Damnit_ he wished she could remember.

One, two, three steps up- _something_ cried out on the upper floor. Kenny recognized the cry as one they'd heard earlier; the loudest voice in the school; like a bassoon in the middle of the flute section... and the _human_ part of the scream was beginning to sound terribly familiar.

Dee, stepping up behind him, felt the same way. She was considering and re-considering what Butters had said, and she suspicion was rising higher as she considered the _black gunk leaking from between her teeth._

"It might _be_ Cartman- what he was running from." She whispered, near silent as they got closer to the top of the steps.

"... I know." Kenny responded in kind, mounting the landing. "Wait until I signal you."

She nodded, accepting her role and stepping over to the wall to tuck herself up against it. He looked at her, nodded in approval, and took the final step onto the upper landing.

The second floor of the school looked mostly normal. Aside from darkened classrooms and the occasional _drop of blood_ on the floor, it all looked like the school on a normal day after classes were over. No one would be able to guess what kind of hell was going on, both downstairs and outside, by just looking down this hallway... and yet, he could _feel_ it. He could _feel_ what was wrong with this moment in time, the way it had been turned _sick_ and _twisted._ As his eyes scanned the hallway, searching for signs of life, he also _listened._

He could hear something _breathing._ Heavy, labored. Further up the hall, a door was propped open. It wasn't a classroom door; no, it was a heavy metal door with a plaque that read ' _Roof Access, Authorized Personnel Only'._

Still as a statue, he watched that door. It moved; wavering back and forth with the thing that was _breathing._ On each cycle of _in_ and _out,_ it too swung on its hinges. It must have been resting against the thing that was breathing so _loud,_ so _heavy,_ so _wet._

It gurgled. A hand slapped down against the floor, skin hitting the waxed surface to heft a heavy body back upright.

"... _It's Cartman."_ Kenny confirmed in a stage whisper. Around the corner, Dee winced. Of course it was.

"And?" She quested on the faintest of breath.

Weight moved; _dragging_ across the floor before the door suddenly swung shut. Bulk had been shifted out of the way, and when the obstructing portal closed Kenny was able to see exactly what it was they were dealing with.

"... _I think he actually got uglier."_

 _Wow. Good work, Cartman._ Dee scoffed faintly. " _Plan?"_ She stressed.

" _Stay hidden."_ He hissed back at her. He hadn't moved from his position at the top of the stairs, watching as this great hulk of a creature began to lurch towards him with uneven steps. One ankle had twisted to the inside, with Cartman... or rather, what _had been_ Cartman blithely continuing to walk on the _side_ of the foot and effectively making himself several inches shorter on one side. Each move of his body was an exercise in _overcompensation,_ stepping too far left and making up for it with a sudden _surge_ to the right, only to thud against the wall and drag his cheek against it for a few feet, leaving behind a black streak of _goop_ intermingled with the bloody remains of _whomever had been between his teeth._

 _C'mon, just a little closer,_ Kenny egged him on in his mind while holding perfectly still. _Just a little closer._

The distance was closing quickly, Cartman's great bulk peeling away from the wall and stumbling forward with a _snarl_ that challenged Kenny's resolve to remain still. When that gained no reaction, the thing that used to be Cartman paused in his lumbering to _scream_ again. His head threw back, lips peeling away from stained teeth and a gargling, strangled auditory assault issuing from the adolescent male's mouth.

Around the corner, Dee had to cover her mouth. The urge to scream back was just _so strong;_ like a pair of hands grasping her lungs and _squeezing_ her like she was a toy.

At the top of the stairs, Kenny _roared._

It was sudden, so sudden that even he didn't understand it. He hadn't meant to, hadn't planned it, but just as sure that Dee had been _overtaken_ by the urge, so had Kenny... and somehow he had not been ready enough to _resist_ it. It tore through him, _ripped_ at his throat and produced the first _bubbles of black_ from the back of his throat. The sound began all the way at the bottom of his gut, and it rose up through him with the force of a geyser.

The Cartman creature reacted in an instant- almost as if he had not known _exactly_ where Kenny was until he'd been forced to respond.

The attack was vicious. Teeth were followed by body, and Kenny was forced back- his toes dug in to keep him from sliding past the opening to the stairwell, but Cartman had thrown him several feet back from his starting position and put him off balance.

No signal had been given, but Dee moved in. She took the leap from where she had been hiding, grabbed Cartman by the back of his shirt, and _yanked._ She felt as if she were clawing into him, and almost swore _she could feel skin sloughing off beneath his clothes,_ but that was beside the point. With a yell and a great heft of her own muscles, she turned and _pulled,_ directing Cartman's great bulbous bulk down the stairs with as much force as she could muster.

At first, it seemed as if she might not be able to move him. He clung to Kenny, unwilling to release him, letting out a squeal of protest as she was just as obstinate in her desire to _push him the fuck down the stairs._ Then, just as she feared that they might _both_ end up taking the tumble, he became unstuck. His rolled ankle stumbled, and suddenly he was going _down._

 _Gravity. The true secret weapon._

She watched him as his bulk almost _bounced_ down the steps with the force she'd thrown him with. It rippled through entirely too much flesh, but she wasn't going to just _trust_ the stairs to finish the job. She was after him, down the steps, dashing down and stopping on the third step from the bottom. Her target had rolled all the way to the bottom, _dazed_ from the looks of it, but she already knew how to _finish_ this specific fight.

From the third step, she jumped off with both feet and aimed her landing directly at Eric Cartman's skull.

 _Yes_ her jump glanced off and made her land on her ass, jarring her tailbone and knocking the wind out of her.

 _Yes_ it probably looked _really_ stupid in retrospect.

 _Still worth it._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

The move has begun! The house is packed up, and hubby and I are taking a cross-country drive to see my parents for Thanksgiving before we head on to Guam. We left our kitty in the care of our friends... and the trip has not exactly gone according to plan. We were driving cross country, and got caught in a snowstorm in the mountains... thankfully, we found a hotel! With _wi-fi,_ no less! … thus how I was able to get this chapter to my adoring public.

I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors in this chapter, it is two in the morning and I've not had a proper meal in the last twenty-four hours. Hubby and I intend to get a real deal breakfast before we hit the road, though, so I'm sure I feel much rejuvenated in the morning.

 _-Buttlord_


	15. Have Phone, Will Time Travel

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! – Have Phone, Will Time Travel::**

When Dee got her head back together, as well as breath back in her lungs, she turned to look up the stairs and see if Kenny was okay. She saw him, but he was still back far enough that she had no idea what his condition was. More pressing, she supposed, was checking if the _thing_ she'd hopped on like Mario jumping on a Goomba was actually _dead-dead._ It took her a few seconds, her lungs still _stuttering_ around getting a full breath in as she struggled to her feet and _nudged_ the collapsed bulk on the floor with her foot.

It _hissed_ at her, both arms reaching out. The right arm had broken in his fall down the stairs, the hand twisted the wrong way and unable to grasp. When she stepped back, out of his reach, he let out a _snarl_ as his round body rocked this way and that in a sort of faux army-crawl, trying to get closer without _getting up._

It might have been kinda funny, if it weren't so utterly disgusting. Black... _blood?_ She supposed that was the best description for the fluid that seeped out of him. Either way, it was beginning to seep through his clothes where she had grabbed him at the top of the stairs; had she clawed his skin open? She didn't think she was _that_ strong... maybe it was part of the zombie thing; deterioration related to the rotting process that was _walking undeath._ His skull had _cracked_ under the force of her jumping on him, and part of his scalp had _slid_ to one side, a large chunk of his hair coming out in a tuft that was still stuck to the bottom of her shoe. That said, the little bit of _exposed brain_ she could see at the top of his head didn't seem to be _bothering_ him all that much.

A second later, a bullet sliced through the vulnerable hole, and the thing that had previously been Cartman went still.

Dee stiffened, stepping back and looking up to realize she was not alone. There was a woman standing just a few feet away with a silenced gun in her hand; one could assume it was the one that had been used to put down the broken monster at her feet. Dee looked at her curiously, noting her serious expression and rather plain-Jane looks.

Behind her stood Wendy and Stan. Amazed, Dee didn't fully recognize them at first, squinting for a second before it hit her. As much as she wanted to _smile_ at seeing them, however, their escort rather put a damper on the whole situation. They seemed just as shocked by what had occurred only seconds before, but gazes quickly turned towards Dee... and the absence of Kenny.

Dee looked up the stairs again. Kenny was gone. She couldn't see him.

 _Did he get bit? Did he run?_

" _Dee,_ I presume." The serious lady said, stepping forward. "I'm Dr. Kartwright, with the CDC. We need to _talk."_

Dee's head snapped back to look at the trio yet again, her body bending slightly in preparation to _run._ She didn't trust _anyone_ form _any_ government agency, and a lady with a gun could have just as easily been holding Wendy and Stan _hostage._ All at once, Dee found herself forming a plan; if she stopped time for an instant she could disarm the serious lady and take the gun for herself; then _she_ would be the one holding hostages.

"Dee, it's okay!" Wendy insisted, putting her hands up as she watched her friend get ready to bolt. "Check your phone, I sent you a message about this! You must have been... _distracted,_ I guess."

Distracted. That was a word for it. She didn't like it, but she did as she was asked; her phone was slipped out of her pocket, and she found a few messages waiting for her. Other kids from school had tried to reach out and find out where she was; Jimmy, Tweek, Kyle. Even her parents had attempted to get in contact by now, more than a dozen panicked texts from her mother alone stacked up in her inbox. Much more recently received was a message from Butters that he'd sent to both her and Kenny; a photo taken selfie-style in the gym. He had Karen with him, as well as Ike; _proof that they were both safe._ Exactly what Kenny had asked for. Finally, she had nothing short of a _text dump_ from Wendy.

A quick read did not make her feel much better about all of this. Still, when she looked up from her phone it was with a much _calmer_ expression.

"As you can see," Dr. Kartwright started, "we have a mutual interest in _undoing_ all of this, and I have a _deal_ for you, kid."

 _I don't make deals with people who try to kidnap my family. Guilt by a association, bitch._

Dee's glare was _uncompromising,_ to say the least.

"Don't be like that- you're going to get plenty out of this, I promise." With that, the serious woman put away her gun... and pulled out her phone? "If I'm not mistaken, you can take objects into the past with you, yes? So, if I gave you my phone, which has all of the reports I've been recording since this _incident_ began on it, you could give it to my past self and warn her what kind of _fresh hell_ is going to happen if this experiment continues forward?"

Dee blinked. Yes, yes she could. With a nod, she confirmed as much while reaching out to take the offered object, though her movements were still carefully measured and _wary._ Just as quickly as she had the phone, she stepped back again and stuffed both it and her own phone into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater.

"Good. If you go back to this morning, I will be at that coffee shop- what is it, Tweek Bros.? If you get there before six AM, you can stop all of this from happening. That's a win for everyone, right?"

She was right, it _was_ a win for everyone involved. This doctor had just given her exactly what she and Kenny had been looking for; the _when_ and _where_ that would put a stop to all this.

"Wait, _wait,_ what happens to _this_ timeline when Dee goes back?" Stan asked, snapping a look to Wendy. "I mean, not that I _like_ this one, but we're not going to... uh... _cease to be_ or some shit, are we?"

"Not quite?" Wendy shrugged. "Something like the memories from the failed timeline will get folded into our selves in the new future as sorta fuzzy not-quite-there feelings? I've had dreams about other timelines, sometimes. De'ja'vu is pretty common, too. It's weird."

" _Jesus,_ I miss all the interesting stuff." Stan complained. "All of this makes me miss playing superheroes."

Dee scoffed, letting out an audible laugh as she stepped back from everyone; this was a solo trip. She didn't need any extras going with her. Did Stan _really_ miss being Tool Shed? Sure, he looked good with the tool belt, but if he had lost _anything_ from that set he would have been _so_ grounded. If she were the more articulate sort, she might have told him to wait until he could finance his own equipment. Instead, she just smirked at everyone present.

"Good luck." Wendy well-wished.

Dee nodded, gathering up her focus as she _felt_ for the moment in time she wanted. A hop back to this morning was all well and good, but she'd need enough time to get over the disorientation of the jump and make it all the way over to Tweek Bros. on a school day. When did she get to sleep last night? When did here _parents_ go to sleep? Before midnight, after ten, which meant everyone would be asleep during the wee hours of the morning. Yes, yes, right around 3 AM, everyone would be passed the fuck out and she'd have the time to get herself figured and over to the meeting place.

She knew it when she'd grasped it. She knew _exactly_ when she was going. She drew in air, prepared herself as best she could, and _pushed._

* * *

The smell was like old fish and unspeakable foot stink; the sort of _reek_ that made ones eyes water, and it really was best to _close_ them. When opened, Dee found herself... in her room. Yes, her room, back at home. She gave a glance towards the window, the portal to the outside that was all but _enshrined_ with nerdy goodies of all sorts hung on the wall around it in a way she found rather aesthetically pleasing, showed her the expected darkness of night... as well as _herself_ sleeping in the bed below it.

Damnit she was never going to get over how _weird_ it was to see herself when she duplicated. She'd just count her lucky stars that the smell hadn't woken her past self; she and her duplicates didn't get along most of the time. That said, luck _wasn't_ on her side when she glanced to the digital clock on the night stand next to her bed; _4:57._

 _I missed? I haven't_ _ **missed**_ _since that whole 'believe in yourself' fiasco years ago. Bullshit, I believe in myself, the universe can eat my_ _ **ass-**_

Mental rant found itself interrupted; Dee felt her guts _twist_ in a sensation that was beginning to become familiar.

 _Fuck- not now!_

No amount of internal griping could stop it; she knew it was coming and she knew there was only one thing for it- she dashed from her bedroom towards the bathroom, _barely_ making it before she had to double over and vomit.

The _taste_ was different this time. Still bitter, still _terrible_ as her body heaved over the porcelain goddess whom she so often defiled... but _thicker_ than the bile that should have been in her stomach, considering how long it had been since she'd eaten anything. Again, she nosily heaved and the contents of her guts were ejected into the cold bowl that was usually reserved for her ass and its terrible leavings.

When it was over, she spat. She felt different, this time. _Tired. Spent._ She felt as if she'd vomited up more than just fluids. Some part of her that felt _alive_ had been ejected as well.

Clumsily, she worked up the energy to get up once more and actually _turn on_ the bathroom light. There hadn't been time before, but she wanted to at least _check_ her body's sick handiwork before flushing it away.

What she saw was not pleasant. The toilet bowl appeared to contain the results of a nasty oil spill, thick black liquid floating atop the water rather than intermixing.

 _I'm still sick._ Dee realized. She hadn't thought about that; bringing an object into the past necessitated duplication, but _because_ she was here, in the same flesh she'd been wearing in the future that was to come, she was still carrying the _disease_ she was trying to stop from spreading in the first place.

 _One problem at a time, bitch._ She told herself, vengefully flushing the toilet and taking a moment to wash the inky smears off of her face at the bathroom sink, checking herself in the mirror and _shuddering_ at her own reflection. She'd gone pale, color drained out of her face, and a sort of dark... _bruising_ had begun to ring about her eyes.

She was beginning to _look_ like one of the undead monsters in the future she was trying to avoid.

" _Pumpkin, are you okay in there?"_

 _Shit._ That was mom's voice, calling sweetly and gently through the door. This was right around the time she usually got up and headed out to work, wasn't it? Her mother, ever the early riser, finally able to stay in one place and _have_ a career. Usually Dee felt a certain sense of _pride_ whenever she was up early enough to see her mother taking to a 'normal' life with such gusto, but this moment brought on abject _terror_ instead.

" _Sweetie, are you alright? I heard you throwing up... may I come in?"_

No need, Dee decided; she'd come out. With a quick glance around to ensure there were no more traces of the shit that had come out of her, she approached the door and opened it, finding her mother already dressed for the day on the other side and looking _quite_ concerned.

When Dee saw her mother, she felt... _strange._ She looked at the woman who doted upon her, who cared for her, who had worked tirelessly to keep her precious baby _safe..._ and felt a sort of _raw irritation_ inside herself. She stood there, looking up at her mother, and knew all at once that, if she wanted to, she could have _killed_ her with very little effort. The ghost of a memory floated at the periphery, of _ripping off her mother's arm_ in that freak show called a lab some years ago. That particular invasive thought that usually made her stomach churn every time it surfaced in her mind. At this moment? It instead gave her an unnatural sense of _glee._

She looked at her mother, and felt like she should have peeled her lips back and laid teeth into her. It wouldn't be hard to do; she could just reach out and-

 _Holy shit what the fuck is wrong with me?!_

"Oh my _goodness,_ you're so _pale..."_ Her mother marveled at once, reaching out to feel her forehead. "Huh, no fever... still, better safe than sorry. Go back to bed, pumpkin, I'll call the school and let them know you're not coming today. It's a pity to miss the first day, but what was going on in there sounded... _painful._ Do you wanna grab your blankets, lay down on the couch? I can turn on the TV for you before I go."

 _Nope, nope, need to get away from you. Need to get the fuck away from **everyone.**_

She shook her head weakly, feigning a sheepish smile as she pointed back towards her own bedroom door with a shaking hand.

"You're going back to your bed? Fair enough- I bet it's still warm. Go on, sweetie, you scootch your butt back to bed. I'll have dad check in on you before he heads out for the day."

 _My time-traveling butt. Mom, sometimes I feel bad about how little I actually tell you... I'll let you in on this one after it's all over. Once I don't feel like **chewing** on people. _

With a weary step, Dee returned to her bedroom, latching the door and listening to her mother as she bustled back down the stairs. It was only a minute later that she heard the front door open and close, and knew that she was free to get a fucking move on... which was good, because the longer she remained in her own room, the longer her _past self_ seemed like a most tempting target.

Next stop; _coffee with a serious bitch._

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

WELP! This story ended up going a liiiiiiitle longer than intended. I meant for 15 to be the last chapter, but never underestimate the things I'll do for the sake of flow. Also, never underestimate my ability to just _disgorge words_ until I think they mean something.

And for those who are looking forward to more New Kid Stories- I have outlines written for the next **four.** Look forward to them; _I certainly am!_

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	16. The Final Deal

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! – The Final Deal::**

Dr. Haley Kartwright had been sitting in this coffee shop since it had opened at 5 AM. She wasn't that uncommon of a sight; a simple stranger with a laptop, ordering a simple drip coffee with cream and taking a seat to enjoy her caffeine and tap-tap-tap away at whatever work there was to be done on her personal little computing device. She didn't raise a single eyebrow as she placed her phone on the table as well, checking it for updates before returning to her computer screen, flipping between a few different windows before nodding with satisfaction.

No one here could possibly suspect she was the architect of their children's health, the supervisor of an experiment that, if it went _right,_ would stop all the damage the anti-vaccine movement had done once and for all. Oh, _sure,_ it hadn't been _her_ idea to move ahead into _sloppy-ass experimentation,_ and it most _certainly_ had not been her idea to test it out on a whole _school district_ as the first human test- but it _was_ her research being tested. She supposed she should have felt a tiny measure of pride that someone felt her work was worth testing... but she felt anxious and _angry._ No one had asked her permission before booting her work out of the lab and into the real world- _years_ before it was ready.

Now they'd given her the worst possible job; she was to prevent losses if the project went bad. Technically, it put her in a place of power- at _any_ time she could pull the plug on this experiment, tell the whole team that they needed to abort and go home... but if she did, she would be disgraced. If _she_ didn't believe in her research enough to test it, then _who would?_ If she pulled the plug without a _damn good reason,_ she'd probably lose her job, as well as any respect she had in the scientific community.

 _Rock and a hard place..._ but hey, at least she had a _delightful_ cup of coffee to enjoy as she felt the walls closing in on her.

The coffee house was home to a morning crowd fairly similar to herself; a number of adults came and went, getting their fix before heading to work, but two others had arrived with computers under their arms, and the man behind the counter called out " _The usual?"_ To both of them, getting an affirmative as one, a woman, sat down with a drawing tablet at the table that was as tucked into the corner as she could get. The other, a man, took a seat near the wide glass windows that made up the front of the shop before setting up his laptop and beginning to furiously type at... _something._ It appeared that _the usual_ for the artist-type was a hot chocolate, while the business man had a dinky cup of espresso presented to him- along with a muffin.

The doctor turned her attention back to monitoring her own computer. She had multiple windows with read-outs of PSI and flow, along with a few other key factors that she'd be fussing over when the experiment got underway; the system that would pump the product of her work into the the ventilation systems at every school in this district. Right now she was waiting on only one thing; the connection status. Once the final pieces were in place, she'd be able to pull the trigger on this at 6 AM... _assuming_ everything stayed on schedule.

She supposed that was nice of her bosses- that _she_ got to press the button that started the experiment. A pittance, since she wanted the whole damn thing _canceled,_ but she'd take it if it meant continuing on to fight another day.

The door opened, triggering a little bell to ring. A mixture of boredom and curiosity made the good doctor peer up at whomever had just come into the coffee shop... to see a teenager- or pre teen? Somewhere right on the line, it seemed, dressed in a loose electric blue sweater and baggy black jeans. The man behind the counter welcomed the kid, but she... he... _they?_ Ignored him. Their eyes were scanning the shop, looking over the man by the window, the artist, and then- _her._

Eye contact was made. Kartwright got the feeling that this kid had been _looking_ for her, as they wasted no time. The kid rushed over, taking the other chair at her table without a word and _staring_ at her with a strange sort of intensity.

"... may I... _help you?"_ She inquired.

The kid nodded. Reaching into the pocket of their sweater, they produced a smart phone. It appeared to be the same make and model as _her_ smart phone... but that was hardly a _rarity._ Still, to see the pair of phones side-by-side was somewhat... _odd..._ it wasn't just the same _sort_ of phone; both phones had the same blemishes. The same cracked corner from that one time she'd dropped it without its case, the same scuff on the case itself from the fact that she still tended to knock it off of her desk from time to time when she was otherwise occupied, _the same bubble pattern in the screen protector she'd pasted onto the thing._

It wasn't just the same kind of phone. It was the _same_ phone.

Slowly, Kartwright took the phone the kid had placed on the table, tapping the home button. Just like her phone, it wanted to take a picture of her face before it would unlock, and she had to keep her thumb on the sensor for it to read her finger print... and just like her phone, it opened after a second and showed _her_ background; an electron microscope scanning of her sworn enemy; the measles virus.

She looked at the kid, who was still staring at her. Had they blinked? Kartwright didn't know, but she could see that the kid was rather... _pale._ Were they sick?

"You're creepin' me out, kid."

She didn't stop staring. In fact, she gestured to the phone as if it desperately needed further investigation... so she investigated. She did what she usually did with her phone; she checked the video recordings she made as her personal logs whenever she was working on a project. Just this morning, she'd made a new folder for everything that was going to happen today.

On this phone, that folder already had a dozen videos in it. While she usually took the time to carefully label each of her logs with a date, time-stamp, and keyword relating to content, nearly all of these videos just had their auto-generated file names. In fact, only _one_ video had been renamed- _"WATCH ME FIRST, YOU FUCKING IDIOT."_ Had the kid named it that? But how could the kid have gotten into her locked phone? The only other assumption that could be made was that _she_ had named it that... but she didn't remember taking any of these videos.

She only broke her naming conventions when she didn't have time to fuss with them; when things were developing too quickly to pause and think of something that would remind her of what was in each clip. The named video only raised more questions... but she supposed the only thing she could do was obey the caption and watch _that one_ first.

Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a cheap set of ear buds. She plugged into the jack on her phone, slipped the headphones into her ears, and selected the labeled file that demanded she watch it first. A second later, her phone went into full-screen and showed her... herself, looking down at her phone. Her expression was twisted between _rage, fear,_ and _unfounded hope._

She spoke in a near-frantic whisper that forced Kartwright to turn her volume up.

" _You've done it, you've fucking done it now, bitch."_ Her own face told her. _"It's all gone fucking wrong, and now you're putting your trust in some fucking **kid** who... what? Travels in time? Yeah, this is what happens when experimental vaccines turn people into goddamn **zombies!** What? You didn't vaccinate your kid because you were worried about autism? Well, now they're a literal **monster! Goddammit** , woman, get it the fuck together... okay, okay- deep breath."_

In sync with her own image on the screen, Kartwright found herself breathing- a deep inhale in, a long exhale out. She heard the words, but they didn't make _sense_ right away... and when they did, they scared her.

" _Situation report: it is now... 3:12 in the afternoon. The experiment has gone horribly wrong. The substance that was pumped into the schools' air to protect the students breathing it has instead **infected** any child who wasn't fully vaccinated at time of deployment. The infected... well, I know I'm not suppose to use this word, but they're **zombies.** There's no other way to cut it; they bite, they're vicious, and they don't appear to retain any intelligence from the living being that came before. They infect healthy persons they bite, even if they are fully vaccinated, and spread the primal madness. And now...? Now, I am going through with a plan that may be going against my better judgment, but I do not see a better choice at this time. Assuming everything has gone according to that plan... I am now speaking to **myself,** who was just handed a duplicate of her own phone by a kid she doesn't know." _

Kartwright glanced up- what the _hell_ was this? Even as she questioned it, the video kept going.

" _That kid is the **propaganda factory-** though apparently they've been going by Buttlord out here. Also, if I am to believe what I'm told, that kid has fucking time-travel abilities in their **farts.** Ridiculous, I know, but... well, if you're sitting there, watching this right now, I suppose it's gotta be true, doesn't it? Listen, Haley- **you need to call off the experiment. It's going to be a disaster.** If this gambit doesn't work, I'm going to do my best to escape with a live sample, but..." _

There was a pause. Her head drew back, and Kartwright could briefly see the... was that the inside of the car she'd rented? Yes, yes it was. The camera then rose up, coming even with her face once more.

" _This is real. It's a disaster, and it's your future if you don't avert it. I know, we're gonna lose our job. We're going to lose everything... but we can't let this shit happen. Bleeding Christ dancing on a leprechaun's taint, we can't let this shit happen."_

The video ended, and the doctor just _sat_ there for several seconds. She wanted to watch the other logs, but she got the distinct feeling she didn't have the _time_ to comb over them at that moment. Instead, she looked to the kid- a kid who had taken a hop through time to get this phone to her.

It was hard not to believe _herself,_ but if what she just watched were true... _everything_ was about to go horribly wrong. And if she acted to stop it? She'd be pressing the self-destruct button on her own life.

Said kid, however, had _finally_ stopped staring to fetch out their own phone. It was produced from the same pocket, and once they had it they scooted their chair over to her side of the table. Kartwright didn't understand why until the kid held their phone up- the propaganda factory was taking a selfie with her.

 _Why?_ The doctor's look in the photo was somewhat _incredulous,_ and the kid's own face was fairly neutral, almost _bored._ Once the photo was snapped, it was straight to the sharing options... but the kid was typing up a caption real quick before they sent it on to the internet.

 _'Hanging out with the serious science lady, who would like to remind everyone to get their damn vaccinations so they don't have to die of diseases that humanity got to stop worrying about a century ago.'_ Read the caption, with further tags such as #vaccinate, #autismlinkDEBUNKED, and #sciencetheshitouttadisease.

The doctor had to blink- if this kid was who her... _future self?_ Said they were, that post would go viral the second it went online. It was the kind of publicity that _couldn't_ be bought, because somehow, _some-fucking-how,_ this kid had the super-power to just _make_ people agree with what they posted.

The kid didn't post it- they pressed the home button and opened a text message instead.

 _'Make the government leave my family alone, and I'll post pro-vaccine shit every day for the next six months.'_

It was a proposal for a deal; the kid would throw their weight behind getting the country vaccinated if Kartwright would try and get their family a little peace. She was uncertain of how much pull _she_ had, but that didn't change the fact that she certainly knew a few people in _various_ federal jobs. If she pulled the right strings, relayed the information that was given to her, pushed the fact that this kid was willing to _help_ when they saw the cause was just... _maybe, just maybe..._

"I can't make any promises, but I can do my best to see to it." Kartwright told her honestly. "... is that good enough?"

The kid pressed their lips together, hesitating for a moment before giving a nod. Yes, that would be good enough. Returning to the drafted post, the pair of them looked it over one last time before the kid uploaded it.

Seconds later, it already had more than ten-thousand likes, and the shares were pouring in just as quickly.

* * *

Dee knew there was one last step to this; one that she hadn't thought of until she'd been vomiting in her bathroom at home and realized just how terrible she felt. She'd known it since she'd felt the urge to _bite her mother._ That awareness just grew more intense as she'd taken off through town as fast as she'd been able to get to the coffee shop, looking at every person who walked or drove by her and seeing in her head how exactly she could have _taken them down and torn into them with her teeth._ It was a wild, primal feeling... and it _hurt_ when she resisted it. Like gas pains from hell, or giving birth to the anti-Christ through her ass. Every time she _refused_ the desire to grab the nearest human and _chomp down like they were a breakfast burrito,_ her whole body _screamed_ in the same way the zombies had screamed in the future she just succeeded in aborting.

Perchance it was just her nature as a time-traveler, but she felt it. She _knew_ the moment the future had changed, when Kartwright picked up her current time-line phone and made the call, telling her people to _abort the experiment, abort the goddamned experiment._ Her tone made people in the shop _look,_ and Dee offered nothing but a bored _shrug_ as she tired not to look at anyone for too terribly long.

Instead, she got to her feet as the doctor got off of the phone, and motioned for her to follow. The doc didn't seem to understand, but she didn't _have_ to right now. Dee understood.

She understood she was rotting from the inside. She understood that she missed in her time hop because her guts were putrefying inside her body, and it would not take much longer before she would no longer be considered strictly _alive._

She also understood that the good doctor probably had a silenced pistol somewhere on her person, even right now. She was a diseased duplicate of herself... and that meant _this_ instance of herself needed to end.

"I don't understand, kid- what do you _want?"_ Kartwright asked as she followed Dee out of the coffee shop. Dee didn't stop walking, heading down the sidewalk towards the U-STOR-IT. Dutifully, with a hastily tucked away laptop under her arm and both phones getting shoved into pockets, Kartwright followed. "I already told you, I'm going to do what I can to try and get the feds off your back, what else can I do?"

Dee glanced back. Was the pistol on her right now? She supposed there was a way to ask. Pulling out her phone, she went into her own pictures, finding the one of the poor kid she had to stomp the head of. Caleb, she remembered- that little boy was _alive_ right now, and he would stay alive, thanks to what she'd done. She'd taken a few pictures when Kenny had asked her to check his jacket for a name, just in case she ran into anyone who needed convincing that the zombie threat was _real._ Right now, however, she just wanted a good view of the black _ooze_ that the child's body had produced so vigorously.

When she turned the phone to show Kartwright, the woman's face twisted into an expression of _disgust._ "... _holy shit on a crispy cracker,_ that's what we just avoided, huh?"

 _We._ Dee almost wanted to laugh. She wasn't part of _we._ Her phone was tucked away, and when she and Kartwright looked each other in the face one more, she _smiled._ A big, toothy smile... one that showed off the black _gunk_ that she couldn't stop form rising up out of her throat and coating her teeth. Was it choking her? _Drowning_ her? Was that how the change occurred for the strange edge cases that didn't turn right away? She didn't know, but she figured the doc would get the message.

The woman stepped back, actually, and stopped walking. She looked at Dee with massive eyes that didn't _want_ to understand what they were seeing... but did.

"... you're infected." She noted, no expletives attached. No, this was the short of shock and surprise that resulted in an eerie sense of calm. There was no _questions_ on how to deal with this- this, after all, was a _zombie_ problem, and zombie problems only got solved one way.

Dee jerked her head, signaling she wanted to keep walking. Kartwright didn't argue. They walked past the U-STOR-IT, until the sidewalk ended and the woods on the east side of town began. Then they walked a little further into the woods, leaving the beaten path and slipping between trees, bushes, and otherwise to find a spot that was far and away removed from the eyes and ears of possible bystanders.

There, Dee stopped.

There, Dee turned.

The good doctor already had her gun. With a laptop under one arm, silenced pistol in the other hand, the woman seemed confused even as she held it with such _resolve._

"If I _kill_ you, what's the point of the deal we made?"

Dee shook her head, a rueful smile crossing her face. Confident that they were alone, she spoke.

"There's a past version of me, still in bed. She's not sick. When you shoot me, she becomes the _real_ me... I think."

Kartwright blinked. Once, twice, three times.

"Son of a bitch, I should shoot you for leading me on to think you were _mute-_ what the _fuck?"_

"Personal choices." Dee reported without regret or shame, getting to her knees on the ground. "Are we going to _do_ this? Because if it's not soon... _fuck,_ get it over with, I can _feel it-_ it's _in me,_ but I'm _still alive."_

A few words that couldn't even begin to give justice to what she was feeling. She felt as if her living skin were the cocoon that needed to be broken before what was within her could emerge... only it was a _monster_ instead of a pretty moth or butterfly.

She'd never thought she'd be so _grateful_ to see someone point a gun at her head. Kartwright wasn't squeamish; she put the barrel right between her eyes, about an inch away from touching her face. Dee decided to look at _that,_ not the woman wielding it.

 _It's the right thing,_ she told herself.

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

 _Two chapters? In one day?_ Well, that might have to do with the fact that I wrote this during the drive from where I was living in Washington state to where my parents live in Minnesota. We're gonna hang out with them over Thanksgiving, and then it'll be time to fly on to our new home in Guam.

That said, these last two chapters were written on minimal sleep and food. If there's a dumb mistake in one of them, please let me know so I can fix it.

One last chapter, my dears. I'll do my best to make it a goodie. :3

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	17. A Trusted Confidant END

**:: Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! – A Trusted Confidant::**

" _... and now, the news program that starts your day off right: GOOD MORNING SOUTH PARK!"_

Dee jerked awake to the sound of the TV. It was close- too close for her to be in her room.

"Whoa, take it easy there, sport!"

 _What the fuck?_ She wondered unto herself, bleary eyes blinking to clear and peering up at... her dad. There he was, with his big goofy _dad_ smile and a good natured ruffling of her curly-ass hair. All at once, the rest of the room rushed in on her; the colors of the living room in her house, the fact that she was laid out on the couch with her favorite comforter wrapped around her, and the near-by TV playing her go-to morning program.

"It's okay, squirt, just take it easy." Her father soothed. "Your mother texted me and told me you were sick, so I decided to take a home day to look after you... figured we could hang out and watch trashy morning TV once the news is over- I know you like to keep up on things in town."

That she did, but _why was she here?_ The last thing she remembered...

 _The last thing she remembered?_

There were competing thoughts in her head. She remembered the night before, the job with Mysterion, the government agents they'd worked together to subdue and frame... but she also remembered so much _more._ She remembered living this day already, and she remembered it going _terribly._ She remembered death, and blood, and _sickness, such sickness._

She remembered the bullet that sank into her skull and killed her in the woods.

" _... here with more is a midget in a bikini."_

" _Thanks Tom! As you can see, there is a line stretching out of the South Park clinic of parents who have pulled their children out of school to get their vaccinations. A great many of these children were not vaccinated due to fears of a possible link between vaccinations and autism, and still more were on a differed vaccination schedule because parents feared that the CDC recommended schedule was too much, too soon for their children... but parents who previously ignored the call to vaccinate all appeared to come to the same conclusion, on the same day!"_

Dee's head had to roll to one side, peering at the TV as the camera cut to a mother holding a toddler, speaking into an offered microphone.

" _I was just browsing my Facebook feed when I saw this post about how the autism link had been debunked- people have been saying it for years, but this time... I just... **believed it.** I knew I had to get my child vaccinated as soon as possible!"_

"Vaccinations, huh...?" Dee's father mused as the camera cut back to the midget. "Now that I think about it, I don't think your mother and I ever managed to get you fully vaccinated- what with the escape from the lab we were being kept in, and then moving around and _hiding_ after that. I know we _tried_ to get the important ones, but no hospital wanted to deal with you without a record of your identity. I guess now that we've _settled,_ that's something we should get you caught up on, eh sport?"

 _Indeed._

"Just a sec, buddy, I'm gonna give the hospital a call and see if we can get an appointment for you. I'll be back in time for the crappy dating game-shows, okay?"

There was no argument to be had as her father stood up and went up the stairs- probably to locate his misplaced cell phone and make the call. As he left, she turned herself to sit up on the couch, rubbing a hand through her hair as she tired to sort herself out.

She'd done it. She'd averted a zombie apocalypse. Lips pressed together, trying to sort it all out in her head. There was an alternate timeline she'd just _escaped,_ and it was still there in her head, but in _fuzzy fragments_ that were evaporating like the ephemeral leftovers of a fevered dream. Even as it tried to leave her, she grasped at the unraveling threads to try and hold it together and ensure there was nothing else she _needed_ to do. She'd lived a day, gone to school, gotten sick, missed _gym..._

 _Cartman! That fucker pulled my sweater off!_

Part of her wanted to get up and find that fat fuck; she owed him a punch in the dick for his behavior... then again, the couch felt awful _welcoming_ as her mind buzzed with too many memories. She'd concern herself with the _Cartman_ issue later, as well as the whole _gym class locker room_ issue. She no longer felt _sick,_ but _exhaustion_ was something that overtook her and made her lay back down. Grabbing a cushion, she fluffed it and placed it on the armrest before flopping down and resting her head, smirking at the TV as the story about the shady-ass government agents she and Kenny had framed got second-string to the vaccination story.

 _Kenny- I should talk to him. Like... **actually** talk to him. He was trust-worthy, he didn't freak out too badly when he found out I was a girl. He was still my friend... I should text him to meet up later, tell him because I **want** to, not because I was forced. _

She blinked. A strange realization had clicked into place. _She had enjoyed talking to Kenny._ Talking- that thing she avoided because she found it to be such a fucking _chore_ most of the time. That thing she didn't do because it let her be a _massive troll_ to people she didn't particularly like... but she'd liked talking to him.

 _I trust him. He's my partner. I guess it's kinda normal that I'd wanna... **be** normal with him. _

Was there more to it than that?

… _nah._

* * *

By the time Dee's father managed to secure an appointment for her, she'd passed the hell out on the couch and slept until nearly noon. With the sudden _crunch_ for vaccinations, her appointment wouldn't be until tomorrow, but that wasn't really the concern on her mind at the time she'd woken up. _First_ order of business was that she was fucking hungry. After some lunch/ _intensely belated breakfast,_ she took the time to head up to her room, find her phone, and then fall back into bed once more until the afternoon.

The next she got up, it was after four- which meant school was out for the people who _hadn't_ gotten a sick day or pulled out of classes to get their shots. The perfect time to text a friend, ask to hang out, and _stretch_ until her neck and back didn't feel so damn stiff anymore. _Damn_ she needed to take better care of herself if shit like this kept happening; maybe yoga to work out the kinks? She was sure she could find some beginner routines on YouTube or some shit.

It was only minutes before she got a text back to her inquiry; her invitation had been accepted, and she got dressed to head out in the usual get-up. Hoodie, jeans, gloves, big black winter coat. Her father was still on the couch downstairs, though it also looked as if he'd done some cleaning with his free day.

"Well, _someone_ looks like they're feeling better." Her dad marveled with a grin. "Your mother said you looked like _death warmed over_ this morning- must have been some little 24-hour bug, huh?"

 _Dad, you have no fucking clue._ She shrugged, nodding along to his supposed explanation. It was as good as any. She supposed she _could_ have opened her mouth to explain, but she still didn't have it all straight within her own skull. Maybe she'd write it down? A paper journal wouldn't be a bad idea, a way to keep track of all the different things that happened both _to_ and _around_ her. She'd need a way to keep it _secure,_ though... maybe ask her parents for a desk with a lock on it? _Ugh,_ no, that would just make people think there was something worth finding in it. The best hiding places were the ones that didn't _seem_ like hiding places. She'd thinking about it some more; she was certain she'd be able to come up with something clever.

"Looks like you're heading out- gonna go hang out with your friends now that school is out?"

She answered with a nod, approaching her father to give him a quick hug before she headed out.

"Heh, don't push yourself too hard, kiddo. Be back in time for dinner, or mom will get after us both."

 _Mostly you, for letting the sick kid outta the house... don't worry old man, I got your back._ She smirked, reaching out to ruffle _his_ hair, much in the same manner he'd mussed up hers that morning. After that, she was out the door and on her way, greeting the brisk air with a deep inhale that reached all the way into the bottom of her lungs. The exhale was exquisite, as if the fresh mountain breeze were washing away all the _shit_ she'd been through. From her doorstep, she burst into a run that was full of _vigor,_ taking delight in the simple act of sprinting through the fresh, fluffy snow that was deposited by this morning's unexpected storm. A full six inches had been deposited on the ground, with flurries still falling from the sky into roads that the plows had cleared before the major going-home rush, and she _bounded_ through it like an excited puppy.

Legs that _hadn't_ sprinted away from the middle school in shame had plenty of energy for a run towards Kenny's house. He'd invited her to come in the back way; through the broken washing machine that led to the secret panel in his closet. It was a path she knew well; one she took whenever they met up before a night out as Buttlord and Mysterion. He, of course, had _no_ idea why she wanted to meet him at his place _right now-_ why would she wanna hang out in the shitty part of town? Social visits were usually conducted elsewhere... but she trusted a certain level of _privacy_ at his place, if only because his family didn't tend to check on him all that often.

In nearly no time at all _[at least to her own perception]_ she had cut through the abandoned area of town, avoided the hobo residents, ducked into Kenny's back yard, and dove for the busted washing machine- thought it looked more like an _igloo_ at the moment, its shape covered in pristine snow. It almost made Kenny's house look nice. _Almost._

Dee tucked her chin down as she crouched down and crawled into the shell of a machine that had long since been gutted to create the secret passage that Mysterion used to come and go from his home base. Dee was still small enough to fit her whole body into the space, turning to put her butt on the ground and drawing her knees up to her chest to be completely hidden within before reaching out to knock on the back panel and announce her presence.

A moment later, the panel moved, and she was greeted with Kenny in his usual attire; his bright orange parka, with the hood drawn tight around his face. A mittened hand was offered, and he helped pull her through and into his closet. Standing up in the dim space, she flashed him a smile and gestured for him to go on ahead into his room proper, she following behind.

" _Mm mphmm mmh mph mmm mphmmm mm mphm mm mphm, mm mphmm mmph mphmmph mmphm mm mphm mphmm."_

She snickered faintly at him, shaking her head while approaching his bed- a thing that could be charitably described as _well worn_ or _rustic,_ and uncharitably described as a _broken-ass piece of shit._ That said, she still found the lumpy mattress oddly comfortable in a sort of _sinkhole made of fabric and springs_ sort of way. With a casual energy she turned and hopped back to land her butt on it, slouching forward as she sank into her chosen seat.

 _Yeah, sure, we **could** have played games at my place- but that's not why I wanted to see you. _In her own head, she did what she always did as he spoke through his many muffling layers- answered him while she _looked_ at him, conveying her own mysterious _glee_ in the curve of her smile and the glint in her eye.

He caught it pretty quickly, and cocked his head slightly to one side. _"What are you up to?"_ Were the next muffled words to work their way out of his tightly drawn parka; reflecting that his family didn't really have the resources to heat the house they lived in beyond keeping the pipes from freezing. He _knew_ she was up to something, he just didn't know _what._

This was it. This was the reveal- _a reveal that she_ _ **chose.**_

"I wanted to talk to you."

 _Stunned silence_ was the first response she got. Kenny had gone stiff, his spine snapping into a straight posture that forced his head up from its quizzical tilt. His eyes had gone wide, _staring_ at her with unblinking intensity as he no doubt questioned his reality and whether or not he'd just heard what he _thought_ he'd heard... and then _further_ processing the quality of her voice, no doubt. The fact that she sounded _feminine,_ not masculine as he might have expected in the _unexpected_ case of her speaking aloud.

In his silence, his feet seemed to move without his consent. The toes of his shoes drug on the floor as he approached his bed and, with all the grace of a bowling ball falling off a roof, fell into his own seat next to her.

" _Why?"_

His question seemed broader than just _why did she want to talk to him-_ more like he was asking her _why she'd chosen to speak to him, why now, why here, why today?_ He was asking every why that could possibly be asked, trying to grapple with the revelation that was her speaking aloud when he'd never heard her before.

She was unsure how to articulate the _why_ in any way that didn't sound _weird_ or _too personal-_ saying it was because she _trusted him_ sounded... well, _cheesy._ She didn't do cheesy. Not if she didn't _have_ to, anyway. She liked to think she was cooler than that.

"Today happened twice." She said instead. "I had to _undo_ it, but I..." _Liked talking to you._ "... I didn't mind you knowing. What I sound like, I mean."

" _You sound kinda..."_ Kenny's voice was quick to drain away beneath his warm layers, a question he didn't want to directly ask contained within it because it felt _too awkward._

"I am. A girl, I mean. That's what you were going to suggest, right?"

He went quiet again- another revelation he needed to _work through,_ but at least he wasn't trying to figure out how he felt about all this in the middle of a life-or-death situation. All at once, she found her anxiety again- had he _only_ been okay with all of this because they'd been threatened and needed to work together? She remembered him saying that he _didn't care,_ that he still wanted to be friends even if Cartman threw a shitfit- but had all that only been a result of the specific context that had surrounded it?

What if she'd remembered it wrong? What if her mind was playing tricks on her, and she just _wanted_ him to be okay with this?

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he looked over to her. He didn't seem quite so shell shocked anymore- still surprised, still _curious_ to all the various _whys_ behind this specific moment that they were sharing, but there was also _acceptance_ in what little she could see of his face... assuming she wasn't just projecting _wishful thinking._

" _... are you going to tell the guys?"_

"Fuck no." Was her instant answer. "Today- _the other today-_ Cartman and I had a fight in the lunch room, he pulled my hoodie off, _everyone saw my bra._ All at once, I was out as a _girl._ I wasn't ready for that. I'm still not ready for everyone to know, but you're my _partner._ You _should_ know... and I wanted to tell you. I didn't want it to be an accident or something I was forced into. So... yeah, this only happens when we're alone. I'll talk when no one else is around... _if_ I feel like it."

He nodded slowly- was he still getting his head around this? She felt like she'd just thrown something _huge_ at him, even if it was just some honest explaining. It didn't change the fact that she'd kept this shit hidden for _years._

A faint laugh came from within his hood. _"All the times Cartman said you talked to him- you really_ _ **were**_ _trolling him. Fuck, that's some dedication."_

 _Relief_ flooded through her; she was afraid he would be mad about that- that she'd spoken to someone she rather openly _disliked,_ but hadn't spoken to _him_ over the years. Thankfully, he got the joke she'd been playing on their resident _sociopath_ and seemed to approve. "You better not spill the beans- I intend to keep fucking with that fatass every chance I get."

He put his hands over where his mouth was, _somewhere_ beneath his tightly drawn hood, assuring his silence in the matter. They both shared a laugh- _it felt good._

Laughter drained off into a final titter, the pair going quiet for a long while. Dee didn't know what to say now that she'd done what she'd come to do, and she assumed that Kenny would need some time to _think._

" _So, why did you do today twice?"_ He asked her sooner than she expected; it wasn't the sort of question he usually directed at her because it couldn't be answered with a _stare..._ but now? Now she'd communicate with him.

And the question he asked was certainly _one way_ to kick off a conversation.

"Zombie apocalypse, vaccinations, I got shot in the head." She tried to shrug it off, but just _mentioning_ it brought the memory out of nightmare fuzz and into sharp focus. The gun an inch away from her face, the sound it had made as it fired, the feeling of her skull giving way before the bullet penetrated her brain. What had meant to be nothing more than a glib run-down of the day brought her back to a moment in time she would _really_ rather forget... but she felt as if it would be haunting her nightmares for some time to come.

 _She knew what it felt like to die._

He must have seen it- seen it as her devil may care attitude dissolved, and a vulnerable creature was left behind to wrestle with the horror that was knowing death so _intimately._

"I... I was infected." She tried to explain, staring forward to look away from him. Her hands met one another for her thumbs to fiddle over each other, unsure of what else there was to say about it. "It had to happen, it... _it was the right thing. I did the right thing."_

True or not, that didn't make her feel any better.

His hand landed on her shoulder. She felt him squeeze.

" _It's okay, Dee, you don't have to explain. I get it. You know I do."_

That was right. He was the only one who _could_ get it.

"Thanks, Kenny."

 _ **~Fin**_

* * *

 _:: The Author's Corner::_

 _HOLY HELL IT'S A FINISHED STORY._ And I did it in... what? About a month? Not too shabby, methinks. I'll go back over everything in the next day or so to hunt down any grammar or spelling errors that slipped through the first time 'round. In the meantime and between time, I ask that you all stay tuned for the next story in this series of New Kid Stories- **the next one will not be nearly as dark and serious as this one.**

Thank you, dear readers. I hope you enjoyed this little romp, and I look forward to seeing you all on the next installment.

 _-Buttlord_


End file.
